To Die For
by Jewlzx16
Summary: Unwillingly dragged into the twisted world of Death Eaters by the Dark Lord, Christine must kill Harry, but in the midst of this, she falls for him, discovers a family, and is faced with a gruelling decision. Will the fight for survival, or love will out?
1. Repentance

To Die For

Chapter One

Christine Balfour waited anxiously by the river in Spinner's End- which was black with pollution and filth- among the over-grown, littered banks. Christine's soft, elegant beauty looked oddly out of place in the gloom, like a precious, pristine stone in a mound of dirt. The only noise was the trickling of the dark water, and she was the only moving thing, though only slightly. It was as if time had stopped itself, seldom her and the whispering waters.

"Christine!" Narcissa's voice was barely the breadth of a whisper, but in the near-dead silence it was startling, and it made her jump.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her heart racing. "Why aren't you with Bella protecting the vaults?"

Narcissa glanced around skittishly, as if worried that they would be overheard, before continuing. "Please…Christine; you must not go through with this. It's nothing that you can handle- it'll destroy you."

"That's a lot coming from you," Christine snapped irritably. Her tone was ignorant, but you could tell that she was anxious, her tone unnaturally harsh. "I've got nothing to lose anyway…"

"You have everything to lose!" Narcissa shot back, seizing Christine's wrist sternly, "This is not a game- you could get hurt."

"I am not a child anymore," she growled, wrenching herself out of Narcissa's grasp, her long, straw-colored hair obscuring her intense blue gaze, her expression fierce. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.

"I am not trying to dictate you!" Narcissa exclaimed, teary-eyed, brushing Christine's hair out of her face. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Well, don't," Christine said quietly, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't need your help. I had to bury my parents last month because they were murdered by the Dark Lord."

"I know, Christine," Narcissa pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. "I lost them too."

"No, you don't," she snapped, an unwanted tear making it's way down her cheek. "I didn't lose them- they lost me… a long time ago."

"Oh, Chrissy! Don't you understand?" Narcissa asked solemnly, "they loved-" But exactly what the Balfour's loved she would not know (not that Christine wanted to hear it; she already knew what they loved- money, parties, and materialistic things).

Their conversation was caught short by a loud crack as a tall, slim hooded-figure in long black robes apparated between Narcissa and Christine. With a swift, easy motion, he removed his hood, revealing himself as a handsome, blonde-haired boy of about seventeen, with fair skin and grey eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked his mother tensely. He did not sound angry, rude, or even impatient. His tone was worried, almost alarmed.

"You'd better get back to you position at Gringott's before he finds out." He said. Draco did not have to repeat himself, as Narcissa dissapparated silently, her eyes still glossy.

Christine lowered her gaze, averting Draco's eyes, no doubt unnerved by his sudden appearance. It was actually more due to the fact of why he was there.

"He's ready?" Christine asked softly, staring down at her feet, all the defiance she had previously displayed diminished.

Draco lifted her chin with his hand, so he could look into her eyes, and Christine could see how much the stress and anxiety had changed his appearance over the period of the last year.

Though still in possession of his good looks, Draco looked sad, tired, almost aged; like a young child forced to grow up much earlier than it should have, one that has experienced years of heart-ache and abuse. His steely grey eyes were scared, and pained, his young face filled with so much sadness and knowledge that it oughtn't to.

Christine felt as if a cold fist had clenched around her heart, and she shivered, her heart beating rapidly with fear. _"I'm not ready for this," _Christine thought sacredly to herself, and she turned her back on Draco to conceal that she was crying. _"Is this what will happen to me?"_

For a moment she thought about running away, but it struck her that she had nowhere to run to, no way to hide. The Death Eaters would surely find her before she had apparated so much as a mile outside of Spinner's End.

Draco seized Christine gently by the shoulders, and turning her around to face him, but she merely looked down at her feet. "Hey- hey!" he exclaimed, lifting her chin up, and wiping her tears away. "I have faith in you."

He pulled her into a warm, loving embrace, and kissed her tenderly, afraid that- though quite opposite of his half-hearted encouragements- should he let go of Christine, she might disappear all together.

She held onto him for a few minutes, as she tried to compose herself, and steady her breathing before facing the task that lay ahead. When she was ready, Christine pulled away from Draco, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, and said quietly, "Where is he?"

"The parlor," Draco replied, without meeting her gaze, sounding down-spirited. "The parlor. Go through the painting we used to use- it should take you-" "directly to him." She finished his sentence for him."

It was the passageway they used the most often when they were younger, before they had started schooling. When their parents, along with the other Death Eaters were attending the meetings, they were left to themselves to explore the Dark Lord's most "Loyal Servant's" home.

"Merci," Christine said his face in her hand affectionately for a moment, and gave him another brief kiss. "Aurevoir." With that she turned away, and started her way up the dry, rubbish-strewn lawn to the old, tarnished manor, but suddenly stopped when Draco called her name. She 360'd on the spot to look at him, and he said, only loud enough for them to hear, "Be careful." He only waited a few minutes more before disapparating in a hazy shimmer.

With a sigh, Christine faced the faded, scratched front door, and closed her fingers around the doorknobs smooth surface. There was a moment's hesitation before she entered, but she turned the knob she knew there was no turning back from that point on.

It took all the strength and self-restraint she had to not run away as fast as she could. But, she made it through the threshold, and into the hallway, the wallpaper peeling and faded with age. The hallway was lined with creaky doors; seldom the one section that branched off into a spiral staircase, and at the end of the hall hung an old, peculiar painting of a door. The whole house, as always glowered with the air of neglect and years of being uninhabited.

The hallway was dingy and dimly lit, and sure enough, just as she remembered it, the picture was waiting for her at the end. She swallowed loudly, and took a few tentative steps forward, reached for ward and knocked on the picture of the door. Instantly before her eyes, it transformed into a narrow doorway, and she walked through. The passageway was not long- merely a five minute walk, and she descended from the painting on the other side- entering the parlor. With an eerie creak, the portrait of whom she assumed was one of Snape's ancestor's swung back into its place, resuming its original shape and appearance.

"Christine!" The voice came from somewhere close to where she stood. It was high, cold, and though it was familiar, sent chills of fear down her spine, and she shivered when it's source revealed himself.

Lord Voldemort's ghastly white face shone brightly against his robes in the semi-dark room, and his glistening crimson eyes had a teasing, mocking expression as he watched her, but there was no humor in it. He sniffed the air with his thin, grotesque slits that served him as nostrils, before laughing coldly: "What is that I feel… fear? Loathing? Such hostile feelings."

"No, sir!" she protested, looking alarmed, dropping to her knees, pleading with him. "Please, my lord! I think only of you in the highest regards, and wish nothing but to redeem myself for my parent's mistake!"

The Dark Lord swooped down upon her, pulling Christine to her feet none-too-gently by the neck of her robes. "Do not lie to me!" he snapped harshly, his face merely an inch apart from her own, and she flinched, shuddering. "Understand?"

"Yes, My Lord!" Christine cried desperately. He released her, and she collapsed onto the dusty floor, where she watched him silently, eyes wide with fear.

"Pathetic," he said disgustedly. He heaved a deep sigh, and he walked slowly around her, like a cheetah about to pounce it's prey. "However, luck is in your favor, for the Dark Lord is merciful…" He crouched low, seizing her firmly by the arms and lifting her roughly onto her feet again. "After all… we are family. And families look out for another- is that not right…Christine?"

"Yes, My Lord," she replied, swallowing hard, and recomposing herself. She wiped away any unwanted tears, but made sure to keep her eyes on Voldemort all at once. She was concentrating on blocking off her mind from him, putting her long Occlumency lessons to use.

It seemed that the Dark Lord had taken notice of this, for he was grinning amusedly, and looking as horrifying as ever. "Ahh…yes, Christine. You will make a great Death Eater yet- beautiful, intelligent, talented…" A thin, cruel smile which did not- by any means, make him any bit the more welcoming- curled his lips, and he continued. "Perceptive, and brave. I've often said that the more valuable qualities are wasted on youth."

Christine turned her back on him in attempt to regain control of her, for she was shaking with fury and remorse. She could feel his long, pale, spidery fingers in her hair, and she was greatly impulsed to hack every one of them off.

Spinning her around, he gripped her roughly by the shoulders. "There are far greater things worse than death, my dear. Forget life, as you once knew. Nothing lies behind for you."

She did not respond immediately, for fear of retorting and offending him, despite the fact that she knew he was right. Finally, with a defeated tone, she answered, "What is it that you want?"

With a flourish of his wand and a flick of the he wrist, summoned a small golden compact. Christine opened it up, and on closer inspection, realized that both halves of the inside were mirrors. Confused, she did not know what to make of his intentions. "Pardon monsieur, but I don't quite understand."

"You should be honored, Christine, to know that very few would fulfill the proper requirements for the task I have for you." He said, still smiling creepily. "You're to go undercover- find a way into the Weasley's hearts- I know Harry Potter is to spend the remainder of the summer holidays with him. Come tomorrow, they will be visiting Diagon Alley."

Christine watched him with anticipated anxiety. She could already tell where this was going, and quite frankly she did not want to. However, she held her silence, knowing well enough not to test his patience.

"The Weasley's are naturally sympathetic, and a warm-hearted family. Your parent's deaths were already announced in the obituary, so they know you'll be on your own. They'll feel obliged to invite you into their home for your own well being. I want to study them and Potter, make him fall in love with you. Find his weakness, and when the time comes… kill him."

"My Lord- I can't- I-" She began to protest with him, glossy-eyed, but was cut off shortly.

"Very close to the Malfoy's, are you not? Particularly Draco?" he said vindictively, grinning in a most vampire-like way. He took pleasure in Christine's fear, as she seized up immediately, knowing he had complete control over her. "Surely we'd be devastated if anything bad ever happened to them.

"What's the compact for then?" She asked forcibly, sounding unnaturally helpless, as opposed to her usual strong, independent ways.

"I thought that was obvious," Voldemort scoffed impatiently, "the compact mirrors are a means of communicating. Owls are easily intercepted- we cannot have the weasley's or any Ministry-officials finding out about what we are up to, and we obviously cannot give you the Dark Mark, that would be obvious beyond the point of stupidity. The compact serves as a two-way mirror. We speak through it, so we can see and hear one another. Keep it with you at all times, when I am trying to contact you, it will grow hot."

Christine placed the compact carefully within an inside pocket of her dark robes, and listened for any further instructions. She did not have to wait long for them to come.

"Now go, leave my sight, and don't forget what I have told you. Your course of action takes place tomorrow. Do not fail me- or I will kill you."

Christine, did not have to be told more than once, as she dissapparated from the house, leaving him far behind. For the moment.

5


	2. Brokedown Palace

**To Die For**

**Chapter Two**

By the time, Christine had rematerialized, it had begun to rain, and she apparated in front of her families manor in London. The pouring rain weighed down her golden curls, and they stuck to the side of her face, but she didn't care. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts at the moment.

It had been almost a month since she last set foot on it- since her parents were murdered. And yet the place hadn't changed the slightest bit, it was exactly as she had left it. The manor had belonged to the Balfour family for generations- since her great grandfather had moved from France to settle down in England with his family. Since then it had been passed down in the family, all the way to her.

Christine withdrew her wand and began making her way up the neatly trimmed lawn, passing by rows of flowers of many different kinds, as well as a variety of other decorative plants. Climbing up the stairs of the porch, she unclasped the key from its chain around her neck, and inserted it in the keyhole. Turning the key, she could imagine all the pins concealed within it tumbling into place and unlocking.

Her hand, moist with precipitation, clasped around the smooth surface of the doorknob, and she opened the door. Every light in the manor magically flickered on of their own accord, and she entered the warm vestibule without hesitating to retrieve the key from its lock, nor caring that she was trailing a track of mud and water into the house. The hallway was lined with pictures, all of which moved in and out of their frames; on one side of the wall she could see her five-year-old self, dressed in a frilly white dress with pink lace, being chased in and out of multiple frames by her breathless mother, before being caught by her father, and hugging him.

She was grateful for the fact that she was drenched in rain, so that, should she bump in to any house-elves, they would not notice she was crying, as walked through the elegantly decorated corridors. Her shoes echoed loudly on the highly-polished wooden floor, observing the silent rooms. In the process of her aimless wandering, she wound up in her parents room.

Though she had not intended to end up there, she recognized it immediately.

The room was large, lavishly decorated, and a perfume lingered in the air from the flowers on each table. The room was painted in bright, warm colors, and was very comfortable. Had it not been for the combined effort of the house-elves, the house would probably have no chance of being sold- something the Malfoy's highly objected to, but Christine would not hear of it, she couldn't bear to live there now that her parents were gone.

She crossed the room, and walked into the conjoined bathroom, turning the light on. Shivering, she peeled off her soaked robes, and tossed them carelessly onto the marble floor. Grabbing a towel from the linins closet, and a face cloth she set them aside and turned on the shower. When she was ready, she stepped into the shower and into the hot water, and began washing up, with more effort than she would on any other day, perhaps in the pretense that she believed that if she stayed in the shower long enough, washing, then she could wash away all the pain and doubt that had plagued her since her mother and father passed away.

Perhaps when she got out, she would have rid herself of all the distress and misfortune that had beset her. Maybe she wouldn't be in that empty house anymore. Maybe she'd be thirteen again on summer vacation with her parents in South of France.

Turning the faucet the hot water shut off, and, wrapping a towel around her self, stepped out of the shower, and stood in front of the fogged-up mirror. She concentrated on its surface, squinting slightly, and the fog sub-sided, to reveal her own reflection, the same as it had been before.

With a sigh, Christine, left the bathroom, and reentered the bedroom, where she began rifling through her parent's wardrobe, looking for dry clothing, seeing as all of her clothing was in the Leaky Cauldron.

After a few minutes search, her hands landed on an elegant white dress. Christine was supposed to wear it the previous year for her Sweet Sixteen. However, she and her mother had gotten into a fight the night before the party, and Christine took off, staying with the Malfoy's for a week. She had been so furious she refused to see her for that entire week. Now, she would do anything for her mother to see her in it, not that she'd let anyone beside herself know that.

She retrieved it from the wardrobe, and removed it from the hanger. Closing the door, she changed into the dress, and then lay on the bed. She could still her mother's perfume on the sheets. Christine could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again, and it wasn't long before they came. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, sleep came, providing a temporary sanctuary from the problem she was currently faced with.


	3. The Weasley's

**To Die For**

**Chapter Three**

The next morning came much quicker than Christine would have liked, and she woke an hour before the sun had fully risen to prepare herself for the day ahead. She dried her robes with magic, then pulled them on over her pajamas, and she dissapparated, reappearing in her room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Her room was nothing extraordinary- like the rest of the inn, it looked, though clean and comfortable, old and shabby. It consisted of a heavy mahogany wardrobe- which creaked when it opened-, a master bed, made-up neatly with sheets, pillows, and blankets, a window over-looking London, and a bed-side table and lamp. The unpolished wooden floor boards groaned under pressure, even under Christine's slight weight, and the room was plainly decorated- but it was comfortable.

Despite the fact that she had been staying there for a month, the wardrobe and bedside table remained empty, and she hadn't taken any interest in unpacking at all. She had all of her belongings and possessions packed within her bag, through the aide of an Undectable Extension charm. If the house-keeping thought it odd, however, they did not mention it.

Sparing her the agony of searching for her clothes by hand, Christine retrieved them with a summoning charm. Quickly, she changed into a pair of denim cut-offs, a tank-top, and a pair of sneakers, and took a bit more time doing her hair and make-up than she would on any other day. With a handful of Sleek-Easy's Straightening Potion, her glossy golden locks were straightened and shiny, hanging neatly below her shoulders. Then, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she stowed her wand in her back-pocket, and exited the room, descending the wide spiral stair-case, and entering the pub.

"Thanks for the room," Christine said briefly, handing him a pouch of galleons, and placing it on the counter in front of Tom, the Inn-keeper.

"It was my pleasure, miss!" he called after Christine, but she had slipped out of the pub, and into the old, littered alley behind the Inn through the back door. Utilizing her wand, she tapped the brick wall in the familiar pattern, and before her eyes, the bricks began shifting, until they formed a tall arch.

She walked through and into Diagon Alley, or what was left of it. Previously, the number and varieties of wizarding families were what made a trip to Diagon Alley so enjoyable, something which the once-thronging market now lacked. There was no one buying, selling or meeting up on street corners, no gossip; no young children fighting about who was next in line for Florean Fortesque's, or eating ice creams, or marveling at the items for display in the windows; No boys and girls trading wizard cards, or bragging about the last quidditch match they attended with family and friends, no one discussing their favorite teams or players.

The streets of Diagon Alley were empty, almost barren, and only the few daring families who had enough nerve to leave the so-called safety hurried by, casting a weary eye on their surroundings, rushing hastily in and out of shops, as if afraid to be caught out in the open, or off-guard. Christine's guess was that most of them were too anxious to go out shopping, and instead took the liberty of ordering supplies through catalogs, which, in Christine's opinion, was even worse- at least getting supplies yourself than the Ministry wouldn't get you're address.

Christine made her way towards the most noticeable shop of the latter. It was painted with bright, whimsical colors, and a large sign with blinking lights bearing the legend: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Opening the door labeled WWW, she walked into the vast shop, which, despite Diagon Alley's clear need for customers, was still thriving with business.

As always, there were shelves of products, toys, prank kits, candy, Skiving Snack-boxes, and even a corner of the shop which had a small dedication to Muggle Magic tricks, which was made up of card-tricks, illusion tricks, and many other forms of practical magic. And, among a family of redheads, seldom a bushy-haired girl, and the famed Harry Potter himself, she could just barely make out the famed Weasley twins, whom she only differentiated from the others by their magenta robes. They were also accompanied by three others, only one of which she recognized: A tall, heavy-set, but kindly looking man, too tall to be any man, yet too small to be a giant, most-likely the result of cross-breeding; a tired, worn-out looking man wearing shabby, patched-up robes, and the famed auror Mad-Eye Moody. The other two were a bit more conversational, exchanging ideas and compliments with whom Christine assumed was the Weasley family; Moody however kept a watchful guard- his magical eye swiveling maddeningly around in its socket rather sickly.

She bent over a display of a bubble in jar which grew out of nowhere and got bigger until it popped, and changed colors, pretending to be interested in it, waiting to be noticed by any one of the party.

She did not have to wait long, however. It seemed that Christine had caught the attention of Moody, whose magical eye swiveled onto her, and he hobbled over to where she stood, bellowing so loudly that she dropped the jar, which shattered on the floor, and tripped over herself, nearly falling.

"What in bleeding hell do you think you're doing?" he growled, grabbing Christine's wand out of her back pocket and brandishing it at her like a whip. "You'll blow your buttocks off like that, you will. Or worse, a Death Eater comes up and steals your own wand to use it against it you. Is that what you want?! Hmm?"

"No monsieur," Christine gasped, still shocked from his reaction. By now the Weasley's and their other accomplices had already turned their attention to her, and she could feel her cheeks brighten with embarrassment.

"Don't scare the poor girl, Mad-Eye." The shabby-looking man made his way over to her, a kindly, friendly smile in place. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, thanks." She replied, gathering herself together again, and returning his smile gratefully, accepting her wand from Moody, who looked rather disgruntled that Lupin had stolen his thunder.

"Are you sure?" George asked, smirking mischievously, exchanging a glance with his twin. "I don't think so; what about you Fred?"

"Oh, definitely not," Fred said, joining his brother next to Christine, grinning deviously, circling her, as if making an observation.

"My Lord!" George gasped, placing the back of his hand to her forehead, and she stared at him and his brother perplexedly. "You're hot!" By now Christine was already rolling her eyes.

"Fred! Take record of this immediately!" George pronounced loudly, and Christine sighed exasperatedly, as Fred began checking off details on an imaginary clipboard.

"Yes sir," Fred said smirking, still recoding information with his imaginary pen. "Beautiful blonde, blue eyes, Sex-" he paused for a moment and grinned flirtatiously at Christine, "Yes, please!"

Christine's cheeks flushed red with anger, and was about to protest when Mrs. Weasley interrupted. She stalked over to where they stood, and whacked either of the twins with her heavy purse, looking quite terrifying, snapping loudly. "Enough, you wretched idiots!" Mrs. Weasley growled, and the twins, with a slight wince, backed off, looking annoyed and affronted at insulted in their own shop. Hermione and Ginny exchanged giggles, while Ron praised his brothers under his breath, extorting a pair of grins from Fred and George.

Then she turned to Christine, who took a slight step away, as if afraid she'd be next. But she looked much sweeter, and sounded a lot kinder than she had just a moment before when she spoke to Christine. "Sorry, for my sons, my dear. They wouldn't know a rejection if it hit them in the face. Now, where are you're your parents?"

"They're not here," Christine replied, downcast, and Mrs. Weasley looked positively appalled.

"Well, surely there must be someone with you?" she inquired, looking shocked. "A young lady, such as you should not be off gallivanting by herself, especially during times such as these."

"No, there's no one. But I really should be going anyways, if I stay too long they'll find me." Christine said, casting her eyes around the walls of the shop nervously, though she really had nothing to fear- as long as they needed her she'd be alive.

"On the road is not the place to be, you have just as much a chance of getting found out there than in here, if not more. They'll be expecting you to be on the run, not out shopping in broad daylight." Remus said, joining in on the conversation again, "What did you say your name was again?"

"Christine." She replied.

Beside Hermione, Ron's face lit up with inspiration and realization. "Oh I know you! You're that Balfour girl whose parents were murdered by the Death Eaters!"

For a moment Ron looked truly pleased with himself for putting one and one together- until Hermione, along with Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, snapped at him, and Hermione warningly stomped on his foot, and he yelped rather loudly, his ears turning red with embarrassment.

Turning to Christine, Mrs. Weasley smiled sweetly, and said: "Well I can't leave you on your own, surely enough. You can spend the remainder of the summer and school holidays with us."

"As taunting and generous an offer that is, Ma'am I cannot accept it. I'd be intruding." Christine protested.

"Of course not." Just until you finish school then. You must be what- about six-seventeen?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes." Christine replied with somewhat of a smile. "You're too kind, but I can't accept your offer."

"Nonsense," she said, her tone much more serious, her face hardening in a very What-I-say-goes-so-that's-that kind of way. "I know the Headmaster very well, I'm sure we can arrange something."

"Now," she continued, "This is..." and so she introduced everyone in the very odd, very large group. And so on did she continue till she reached Harry. "And this," she said, gripping Harry's shoulder gently.

"Harry Potter," Christine said with a smile, "It's nice to finally meet the one I've heard so much about."

He noticed that, unlike most people her gaze didn't fly automatically to his forehead and stay permanently glued to his scar; instead, she maintained eye contact, and kept a sweet, friendly countenance about her, rather than fawning over how brave he was and hanging all over him. This, in turn, allowed him to feel more comfortable than he would on most first acquaintances. Gripping her hand gently, he shook it in greeting, and returning her smile, replied, "It's nice to meet you too."

"Ohh, yeah," Ron agreed under his breath, watching Christine with a dreamy look, and a warning "Ron!" from Hermione, followed yet another groan of pain from Ron.

Ginny too, did not look very pleased, though it was not in Ron's behavior- it was with Christine. Sure, she and Harry might not be together anymore, but that didn't mean Ginny wanted him to be seeing or interested with anyone else. However, she did not make a comment, for her family, and, more importantly- her mother- were all situated there.

After Christine, the Weasley's, and everyone else were all acquainted, they went about collecting their supplies for their last- or for Christine, first- year attending Hogwarts. When they all were ready, Christine, and the Weasley's and the rest of the group, apparated into the kitchen area of the burrow.

13


	4. Pain

**To Die For**

**Chapter Four**

While the Weasley's, Harry, and Hermione all preoccupied their selves with organizing and putting away their school stuff, Christine busied herself with organizing her school supplies and getting settled in. She would be sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione for the last month of summer vacation, so she had quite a while till she had to get on the move again. Sitting on her bed, she summoned all of the clothes and necessities from the contents of her backpack, and used her wand to make the neatly folded piles of her clothing unwrap and hang themselves in her wardrobe.

"So, where've you been going to school for the past six years, if not at Howarts?" Hermione asked conversationally, sitting at the edge of Christine's bed, having, as always, been the first to finish with organizing and packing.

"Beauxbatons," Christine replied casually, "But, I don't live in France; my home is- or rather was- in London."

"But why would you want to go so far?" Hermione asked curiously, "Don't you miss your family?"

"No, I'm an only child, and my parents were never really close to me." Christine said, sincerely. "Besides, my mother was taught there, so it was pretty much already decided for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said sympathetically, grasping her hand comfortingly.

"It's okay, I'm over it." Christine said, trying to shrug the subject off, but had the slight, lingering air of remorse. "I mean, don't get me wrong- I loved them- they're my parents so a some part of me will always remain attached to them, but the main thing is that we were never close. I was never happy with their decisions, and they were never happy with me. End of story."

"That's horrible. What would make you think that?" Hermione inquired.

"They were never around for me," Christine said, "Their life revolved solely around work, money, and the Dark Lord. They never thought about how it might affect me and they were getting us into- they only cared for themselves and how they were praised by their _Lord_. _That_ I could never forgive them for."

"Oh!" Hermione said reproachfully, pausing to gather her words, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse for Christine's deceased parents actions. "Well, maybe they were just trying to protect-"

"No," Christine interjected sharply, "They had no excuse. They had joined him before I was even born. Even so- what's the price of one person over millions? They had a choice, and they made the worse of two evils. They are completely responsible for their decision."

"So, then what does that make you?" Ginny asked coldly from her own bed, where she lay on her stomach, flipping through the pages of a Quidditch magazine, though not really reading it.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, obviously shocked by Ginny's cool remark, and Christine though stung, remained silent for a moment before answering.

"It makes me coveted." She replied sharply, "They just took out two of their Death Eaters, and their going to want me to be punished for my parent's mistakes by taking their place. Not only that but I am the only living air to my parents fortune, so it makes me a valuable source."

"Yeah- well, that's obvious," Ginny said sarcastically, glancing ruefully at Christine's outfit. It was not that extravagant, really- a blue tank top, blue denim cutoffs, and a pair of white sneakers. But unlike Ginny's outfit, however, it looked new, and not like it was bought from a second-hand shop.

"You know what? I'm through with this conversation." Christine snapped, red sparks flying from her wand. "I don't need to prove anything to you."

"Ginny!" Hermione scowled, but it was all for naught, for Christine had already left, slamming the door violently behind her.

Christine flew down the many flights of stairs, without any knowledge or care of where she was headed. Her cheeks were warm and red from anger and running, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to put as much space between her and Ginny as Ottery St. Catchpole permitted, and she wouldn't stop until she achieved just that.

She had already run down several flights of stairs, and through the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was preparing lunch, and was too preoccupied to notice her. Before she knew it, Christine had flown out of the back door and into the Weasley's odd, over-grown garden.\

Exhausted, she slumped towards a thick oak tree near the pond, and collapsed at the foot of the trunk, out of breath. Leaning against its base, she could feel the back of her shirt sticking to her skin, and she suddenly regretted storming out of the cool of the house.

The forecast hadn't been wrong. The sun, now fully risen, shone high over head, its ultraviolet rays stretching down, and beating on the garden. It was so hot that even the mischief-making gnomes did not dare to venture out of the safety of their holes, which were buried deep underground.

Christine would have preferred to fume in silence alone, but it turned out that luck had different plans for her. Hearing the backdoor slam shut for the second time that day, her gaze flew to the porch. There, she saw Harry descending the old wooden steps and she groaned.

"Christine!" he called, making his way towards the tree, where she was slumped. "Lunch is ready…" He looked casual and friendly as he approached, but as he got closer, he could tell that something was wrong- she was upset.

"Erm." Harry said, rather awkwardly, standing for a moment, as though making up his mind. His mind closed around a decision, and he sat down beside her underneath the tree. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, Christine didn't reply, and Harry thought she wouldn't, as she watched a couple of plimpies jump in and out of the surface of the pond. But, just as Harry started to get up and make his way back towards the Burrow, she poke up, though her voice sounded strained, forced. "Does it ever end?" she asked suddenly, quietly, as she turned to look at him.

Harry, taken aback, did not respond; he stared at her with a blank expression, and after blinking a few times answered: "Err…what? Does what ever go away?"

"Everything." Christine said her eyes glistening with unwanted tears.

"Erm… I don't know what you mean." Harry said, dumbly.

"My parents lied to me my whole life, and lined me up like a pig for the slaughter." Christine whimpered. "And not only that but they left me alone to deal with the consequences of their mistakes, and to carry their burden, labeled by who _they_ were."

"No." Harry said, quietly, his tone, too, sobered." The pain- none of it- ever ends. But I promise it will get easier."

Quite suddenly, and unconsciously, Christine moved closer to Harry, and wound her arms around, pulling him into a hug, and he, taken by surprise, patted her awkwardly on the back. It wasn't intentional, and she realized a minute after, after which she hastily dropped her arms, releasing him from her embrace. "Erm," Christine ventured, "Uh, we should probably get back inside- we'll miss lunch."

"Yeah, come on." Harry agreed. With that, he slung an arm over her shoulder and they departed for the kitchen, unaware of Ginny watching spitefully from her bedroom window.

15


	5. Envy

**To Die For**

**Chapter Five**

_"Oi, Christine!"_

Christine snapped out of her reverie with a start, falling off Harry's Firebolt which she had been hovering on- four feet above the ground- for the past half hour. "Oww!!" she groaned, pushing herself up, and straightening her lilac sundress. Christine glanced around, hoping Ginny hadn't noticed, but even she was not that lucky.

"Smooth move, Blondie." Ginny remarked coldly, looking up at Christine from the latest issue of TWITCHES (TeenWitches), her favorite fashion magazine. She knew she would never be able to afford anything in there- but she still loved salivating over all the latest trends."Maybe next time you'll fall hard enough to put us _all_ out of our misery."

Christine glared ignorantly at Ginny. She had been staying at The Burrow for three weeks now, and Ginny remained antagonistic as ever- if not more. Harry had become comfortable around Christine by now- a bit too comfortable for Ginny's liking- and was displaying somewhat of an interest in Christine, more keen on spending time with her. Ever since Christine's arrival Ginny had been relentless- never leaving them alone for the slightest second, and never missing an opportunity to sabotage or humiliate Christine.So, in summary, nothing would please Christine than to hex Ginny into oblivion, but she could not risk exposure, so she had to suck it up and deal with it.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, stopping infront of her, Ron bringing up the rear. They both wore old T-shirts, and faded cargo shorts, their clothes ripped and dirty as evidence of their hard work at degnoming the Weasley's garden.Harry kept a tight grip on a gnome by the end of its' short, horny little legs, while Ron struggled with two particularly feisty gnomes, cursing under his breath. Christine smirked. She couldn't help it- they both just looked so ridiculous.

"Yeah1 I'm great!" Christine replied, grinning embaressedly, adding half-jokingly, "I just fell about four feet, but don't worry- it's no big deal...well- not anymore." She flashed him an irresistable smile, and Harry's stomach twisted into a knot.

_Wanker_, Ginny thought enviously, as she watched Christine flirt with Harry, even though she very well knew that if she would do the same thing if Harry wasn't so wrapped around Christine manicured finger.

In fact, just that morning she "accidentally" bumped his arm sothat he spilled his orange juice all down the front of his shirt. However things did not go as planned- not even close. When Ginny tried help him with the mess, he brushed her off casually- saying it was "nothing", and scrubbing hopelessly at it with a paper napkin until Christine came into the kitchen with a fresh load of laundry after helping Mrs. Weasley.The conniving little _witch_ offered him a clean shirt. That wasn't the gist of it though. He was such a nervous wreck about being half-naked around Christine that the idiot got his headstuck in his sleeve. So, Christine _helped_ him put on his shirt.

Harry blushed furiously, trying to come up with something equally flattering and impressive, but nothing came to mind. So, instead, he held out the gnome, grinning embarressedly, "Wanna try?"

Suddenly, Ron yelped loudly, as one of his gnomes bit him painfully in the shins, and he dropped the two, falling to the ground and nursing his knee, swearing loudly. The escapee gnomes herded as far as their fat legs carried them, squeaking, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" Halfway to their gnomehole, one ran back, kicking Ron between the legs for good measure, then scurried off, calling, "Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"No thanks," Christine laughed, glancing at Ron, who was still rolling around in the grass, clutching his knee, and muttering incoherently under his breath.

"What's the matter?" Ginny inquired mockingly, "afraid you'll break a nail?"

Christine narrowed her determinedly at Ginny- she was never one to take a challenge lightly. "Give me that." she said to Harry, grabbing the gnome impatiently by the ankles. She held the gnome upside down by its' ankles- looking disgusted- it was just so ugly. "Hi," the gnome squeaked, "Eat, dirt!"

Annoyed, she tried to imitate Harry and Ron, wishing she had paid more attention to their degnoming techniques, as she swung the gnome round and round her head, till her arm spun at such a velocity that she looked like a giant human helicopter. Finally, when the speed reached maximum capacity, the gnome flew out of her grasp, sailing far beyond the hill past the Weasley's garden, where the rest of its' kind made a jagged line, swaying to and fro drunkenly- with a loud piercing wail.

"Wow," Ron breathed."That had to have been at least 55 feet- that's better than your first try Harry!"

Ginny groaned in frustration, turning the page so violently that she accidentally ripped the page in half. As if she wasn't angry already, a certain annoying, tall blonde-haired someone glided through the backdoor and intothe backyard.

_"Alors!"_ Fleur cried excitedly, gliding gracefully across the garden. She swayed over to Ginny, swoping down to kiss either of the youngest Weasley's cheeks, before clutching her to her chest uncomfortably."Ginny!"

_"Gross!" _Ginny protested, practically gasping for air, as she attempted to pry herself from Fleur's grasp. "Your boobs are suffocating me."

Finally after about a minute, Fleur released Ginny, and moved onto her next victims- Harry and Ron. She swept them both into a giant group hug- Harry blushing embarressedly and patting Fleur's back awkwardly, and Ron sighing contentedly. When Fleur noticed Christine her eyes widened with surprise and glossed over with excitement, a big grin spreading across her face.

_"Alors!"_ she cried again, kissing Christine's cheeks and sweeping her into a hug. "'Oo' 'eez 'dees beautiful girl?" Christine could feel herself blush with embarressm,ent. She Fleur- Christine was in her fourth year at The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic when Fleur was in her seventh and final year- they had even shared meals together at the same table. It was rather flustering to know Fleur had not remembered her- which was a rare- if not a completely unusual occasion.

"Christine Balfour." Christine replied, cutting of Fleur before she had the chance to introdue herself. "And your Fleur Delacour.Yeah, i know- we both went to the same school in Beauxbatons. You graduated during my fourth year." Fleur's face brightened with realization, and she smothered Christine once again- making Christine wish she hadn't said anything at all.

_"Mais, Oui!" _Fleur cried ecstatically. "I knew you looked fam-eel-ee-er! _C'est magnifique!_ You got so beatufiul! And so grown up!"

_"Merci," _Christine said awkwardly, finally extracting herself from Fleur. She leaned in close to Harry to whisper discreetly in his ear, "Is she always like that?" After nearly three years of Fleur-free pleasance, Chrisitne had forgotten how clingy and over-friendly Fleur could be.

"Yeah, pretty much..." Harry sighed exasperatedly as he watched Fleur trot back over to Ginny, giving lectures on what and what not to wear, and what designers were best from the magazine. Ron did not add to harry comment- he was still trapped in a lovesick gaze, a dreamy expression on his face.

"You are going, right?" Harry asked suddenly- he had almost forgotten about Fleur and Bill's wedding.

"Go? Go where?" Christine asked perplexedly, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "When?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding- I almost forgot. It's this weekend." Harry responded. "You're going aren't you?"

"I'm gonna be here for the summer, aren't I?" Christine asked rhetorically, smirking at Harry. He nodded."Then I'll be there." she concluded, already knowing where this was going.

"Good point." Harry said, feeling stupid."Well- then, I-I was just uh erm wondering if you would like to, you know- go with me?" he asked, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

Christine grinned, kiss Harry's cheek, and replying sweetly, "I'd love to."

_Aww, how sweet, _Ginny thought sarcastically, _it almost makes me want to gag._


	6. The Wedding

**To Die For  
****Chapter Six**

"Morning, sunshine." Ginny said sarcastically, chucking a stiff pillow at Christine. Christine merely groaned in reply, sitting up slowly, and running her fingers through her tousled golden locks. She rubbed her eyes and looked around wearilly- her gaze flying across the room to the window, where the sun- still not fully risen- cast a tye-dye effect upon the early morning sky in hues of gold, pink, orange, and purple.

"Time to wake up already? The sun's not even up yet." Christine moaned, throwing the blankets off of herself and hopping out of bed. She strode over to her wardrobe, throwing open its' doors and raking through the endless supply of clothes- Ginny watching her magically-expanded interior in amazement. Its' entire content was crammed with clothes- just one outfit was probably worth more than the entire house. She couldn't help but stare when Christine removed the most expensive-looking, beautiful dress that she had ever seen.

It was a strapless white corseted dress that was designed to fit the bodice snugly in a flattering way, then bellowed out slightly around the knees. The hem was trimmed in gold thread, and dress was embellished with gold-beaded roses.

Christine dug into her closet again and extracted a pair of matching gold high heels.Ginny glanced down at her own new outfit- a gold knee-length cocktail dress with a scallop-trim, and a neckline that revealed just a hint of cleaveage and golden wedge-sandals. She had been so excited when she got her own dress, and she looked gorgeous in it too, but now seeing Christine's outfit she was feeling doubtful.

Christine unfolded an old changing screen- which was probably older than the house itself- and hung her dress over the top. She began stripping down- pulling her night-gown over her head and stepping into her dress, pulling it on. "Ginny," Christine asked, "could you help me with the zipper?" She stepped out from behind the screen and turned around so her delicate, arched back was facing Ginny.

Ginny looked peeved- no, she did not want to help Christine with zipper- especially not when she knew how much more beautiful Christine would look in her dress than she would look in her own. But it was Bill's wedding, and she wanted everything to be perfect. Not to mention her mum had forewarned her not to start anything with Christine- again- so she held the zipper in one hand, and smoothed out both sides of the fabric with the other, and zipped it up. "Thanks."

She sat on the bed to buckle on her heels, then stood up to retrieve her wand. Aware that Ginny was watching her, she blushed slightly. Ginny looked like a little watching her mother put make-up on for the very first time. Ginny watched intently as Christine curled her hair around her wand expertly, then letting the perfect, frizz-free locks cascade down. She flourished her wand abover her head, her hair wiinding itself around the wand, twisting this way and that- until her hair had wound itself into an elegant updo- with most of the hair down in fancy ringlets, and only the hair from the sections of the sides of her head held into a neat curly ponyatil, and few strands of hair dangling from the sides of her face.

Christine then cocked her head to one side, biting her lip slightly in concetration, and passed her wand infront of her face, and before Ginny could so much as blink, Christine's make-up was already applied, and and much nicer- without the flaws of having done it by hand. Finally, Christine finished off the look by adding gold bangles to her wrists, and clasping around her neck a diamond star pendant on a gold chain. Ginny gawked at Christine in amazement. Christine had gone from sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired pajama bum to an elegant, glamorous goddess in a matter of minutes. "How do you do that?" Ginny asked, before she knew what she was doing. Christine looked away from her reflection and smiled over at Ginny, making her feel even more immature and inferior at how gorgeous Christine looked when she smiled.

Christine grinned- Ginny had been pretty amiable for the past three days. It was obvious that Ginny was no closer to hugging her and making amends, but maybe Ginny was softening up to Christine a bit.

"It's easy!" Christine replied. She walked over to Ginny, beaming, wand in hand. "You just have to think of what you want to have, then pass your wand infront of your face..." Christine said, demonstrating to Ginny with her wand. "...and_ voila_!"

Ginny observed her face in the mirror and couldn't help smiling- she looked simply radiant. Her face emitted a soft, healthy glow, and the tops of her eyelids were lined with a rustic orange eyeliner that made her big brown eyes pop even more and glow brighter, but not in a gaudy way. Ginny's cheeks had a suttle pink flush, her lips shone a clear, strawberry color. She couldn't remember a time when she looked any better.

_So this is what having an older sister is like, _Ginny thought gushilly, _It's nice._ Ginny loved all of her brothers dearly- but being the only girl and the youngest in the family did have its' downsides, despite its' perks. With only older brothers to model after, Ginny grew up to be tough and like boyish things like Quidditch, and it taught her to be independent and strong-willed. Secretly, though, she'd always wanted a sister to do girly things with- like make-up, gossiping, staying up late at night and talking, and so on- and her brothers did not exactly fulfil the requirements.

"Thanks," Ginny gushed, beaming at Christine. She smiled for the first time in three weeks- a real, genuine smile- for the very last person Ginny would have least expected- Christine. "Hey," she ventured, with the embaressed sweetness of a shy school-girl. "Could you help me with my hair?

"Sure. "Christine said, with a smile- the first that came naturally since her parents' deaths- a tiny glimmer of hope. Christine began twisting Ginny's hair this way and that around her wand, unable to stop grinning as she did so. _Maybe- just maybe- this will all work out,_ she thought.

"Ginny! Christine!" Mrs. Weasley trilled from four floors below Ginny's room, and both girls turned to the door.

"Am I ready?" Ginny asked Christine, glowing.

"Just a second." Christine said, moving to her jewlery box and rummaging through its' contents until her fingers closed around a large gold butterfly hair pin, beset with with diamonds, black topaz, gold sapphires, and crystals. She fastened a thick curl from Ginny hair up to the side, so that her face was easier to see, and it brought out Ginny's brown eyes nicely.

"Wow," Ginny breathed, staring at her reflection in amazement. "I don't even look like myself anymore." Goodbye wannabe, hello _TWITCH_ supermodel.

"You look beautiful," Christine said sincerely. "Come on- let's go see the others- they probably need some help _avec les decor._"

Ginny hopped off the bed and Christine summoned a gold purse in which contained her compact and dropped her wand into it. "Ready."

They walked down the four flights of stairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was already waiting for them, wearing a new set of amethyst robes and a matching hat, her hair twisted into an elaborate updo. "My dear- you two look absolutely fabulous!" Mrs. Weasley beamed, and Ginny blushed. "Hermione and Gabrielle are finishing up with the decorations and they need some help. I would join in, but I must help Fleur get ready, Madame Delacour is running a bit late.

"Thanks!" they said in unison before making their way to the backyard- Christine gliding in her heels as if floating on water with mastered ease, as Ginny had not yet accomplished the grace of walking in high-heels, and in effect stumbled every so now and then on the way as she tried to hold her posture as Christine did.

The transformation of the Weasley's garden was completely unrecognizable. Whereas normally everything within it was overgrown and unorganized, the grass now was neatly coiffed, and of a rich, healthy green, unblemished by its' usual smattering of odd weeds, and even stranger plants. Hermione had enchanted all the leaves of the surrounding trees golden, and a large white marquee stood in the heart of the yard, entwined with golden vines of various flowers. A long, purple satin carpet was- of which on either side were rows upon rows of neatly organized dainty gold chairs- lead up to the marquee. The sky was a beautiful forget-me-not blue, scattered with fluffy white clouds, and the effervescant sun shone down on the garden gleamed on the gold. The effect was almost heavenly.

Gabrielle had removed her heels in order to keep her balance on a spare chair, her shoes left forgotten in the grass as she attempted to fixate white and gold balloons to the top of the marquee. Hermione stood in the grass- a vision of radiance in a light, knee-length periwinkle dress and matching heels, her usually flyaway, wavy hair straightened to frame her face- about six feet away, directing Gabrielle where each balloon was to be palced.

"Okay- now just a little to the left- between the two gold ones, still- yes. Your just a little bit off- tie it right in the middle." Hermione directed critically, gesturing wildly with her hands and sounding like a steriotypical gay fashion photographer. The effect was rather amusing.

"Like 'zis?" Gabrielle asked, hopping off the dainty gold chair lightly, so Hermione could get a better view.

"That'll do, I suppose." Hermione sighed exaperatedly, though there really was no point in her saying anything at all, because Gabrielle had already sat on the chair , impatiently buckling the straps on her heels. Then, flipping her hair boredly, she trotted off towards the house-or as well as one can in three-inch heels- emitting a soft golden glow, calling briskly over her shoulders, "_Aurevior! _I'm going to get ze boys!"

Hermione growled, mimicking Gabrielle, as she stepped onto the chair herself, and began tinkering with the unlevel knot Gabrielle had already made. Christine looked up at the balloon in question- it was only an inch to the left of the middle, and she was sure no one would have noticed if Hermione had not pointed it out. She wasn't going to say anything though- if there was one thing Christine had learned about Hermione in three weeks, it was that she was a perfectionest.

"There." Hermione said, tying the knot with unpracticed ease, before climbing off the chair, and addressing Ginny and Christine. "That girl is completely useless- you know, she may be only eleven years old, but she's so vain- she is just as bad as Fleur if not worse."

"You mean Phlegm?" Ginny offered helpfully, smirking mischievously.

"You really shouldn't call her that." Hermione said discerningly, though unable to resist the urge to grin, as Christine shook with laughter. "In about twenty minutes, she'll be practically your sister."

"Yes, but that's what being the younger sister is for, isn't it?" Ginny questioned. "You know- tormenting the older sister, and borrowing clothes from their closets without permission- well, at least that's what Parvati tells me."

"I don't know," Hermione said thoughtfully, accommodating her most classic deep-in-thought expression, before continuing. "Does that really count? I mean- Parvati and Padma are twins, so... "

"Oh, it counts-" Ginny persisted. "Well- just barely. Padma is fifteen minutes older than Parvati." Christine had obviously no idea who or what Ginny and Hermione were talking about, so she didn't say anything. Being born and raised an only child, she wouldn't know what being a younger sister would be like anyhow.

"Bonjour, mon aimee!" Gabrielle proclaimed, signaling her return, as she half-dragged Harry down the backsteps, who looked half-way between bored and annoyed. "I've returned!"

"We can tell." Ginny said flatly. Did Gabrielle always have to be so vain and...peppy? Gabrielle was acting as though they had been holding their breath during the brief fifteen minutes that she had disappeared.

"Wow, you look great!" Harry said, with much more enthusiasm than he had displayed as Gabrielle dragged him outside, his tie dangling from his neck haphhazardly. Ginny beamed and opened her mouth to thank Harry for the comment, but then she realized he had been addressing Christine-who moved past Ginny to greet Harry.

"Yeah, she does." Ron said, joining them after walking off the backporch, obviously misunderstanding whom Harry was talking about as well, and looking at Hermione as if he just seen her properly for the first time. "You look amazing, 'Mione." he said with a grin, and Hermione blushed.

"Thanks! You look quite handsome if I say so myself." Christine purred to Harry, and Ginny gave an unvoluntary twitch, her heart sinking. She realized that his tie wasn't done and she couldn't help but laugh. She found it highly amusing that most women had better skill at tying a tie then most guys do and they didn't even wear them.

"Erm- could you-?" Harry asked awkwardly, pulling pathetically at his tie, and blushing embarressedly. She laughed, smiling sympathetically, as she reached up and began tying the tie. Harry felt as though his head had caught fire and blushed furiously as Christine's hand brushed the side of his neck.

Ginny looked over at Ron and Hermione, as if seeking comfort, but they weren't paying attention. They were a few yards away, busy talking with one another- Hermione blushing profusely and laughing occassionally. Ginny was the odd girl out- and she really need that. "Um...I'll be back later, I think Auntie Muriel is here. Erm- bye."

"Bye!" Harry said vaguely, and Christine waved, but they turned their attention away right after. Ginny made her way as fast as she could in her heels to the house before she started crying, making her way towards Fred and George's room. They would make her feel better- they always did.

"Ronald Weasley!" a stopped-over, frail-looking woman with frizzy, fake-looking red hair barked across the yard."Never heard of a haircut eh?" she criticized, as she hobbled over, leaning on a walking stick. "I'dve thought you were Ginevra if you weren't wearing those robes."

Ron glared at the haggish old lady from afar, his ears bright red with embaressment. "Well!" she barked. "What in Merlin's pants are you waiting for? I' m a hundred and seven years old!" Ron muttered an embarressed apology to Hermione before excusing himself to reluctantly help Auntie Muriel to her seat. Harry excused himself as well, and Hermione followed not long afterward- as more guests arrived.

As Ron passed Christine with Auntie Muriel, Christine could hear Muriel insulting her in a none-too-quiet tone: "My lord! What is that that girl is wearing? Not even enough to keep a tick dry in a drizzle! Tisk, tisk, tisk- must be French."

Christine glared at Auntie Muriel's retreating back, thinking bitterly, _Well, excuse me if I'm not a horrid prehistoric bat, and my dresses don't reach the floor. _"She's horrible." Christine said sulkilly to herself, unaware that anyone was listening, as her crystal-blue eyes bore a hole into the vicious old woman's back where she sat in a golden chair that looked almost as fragile as she was- barking at Ginny about how "skimpy" her dress was.

"Yeah, well," said Ron, with a grimace as he approached her, running his hand over his newly shorn head- courtesy of Muriel. "That's Auntie Muriel."

"Don't feel too bad though," Hermione added half-jokingly, and glancing self-consciously at her feet. "She had a go at me too...My ankles don't make me look scrawny, right...No- she doesn't know what she's talking about." Hermione said uncertainly, though saying it more to reassure herself than anyone else.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking nervous, and he pressed down on the top of his head, desperately attmpting to flatten his untidy hair- but with as less effect as this nervous habit always had. Harry had always secretly been insecure about his hair, and Auntie Muriel wasn't doing him much help by criticizing him. "She attacked my scalp with a comb, saying she'd give me a 'proper grooming.'"

"Come on," Harry said, and he gently seized her Christine's wrist, tugging her forward slightly. "Ther're some people I- I mean- we'd like you to meet.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione lead Christine over to a gaggle of people which included three red-heads- one- a thin, balding, bespectacled man Christine recognized at once as Mr.Weasley; two younger looking men in maybe their twenties, with equally fiery locks, whom Christine assumed must have been the two eldest Weasley brothers; and a pretty blonde woman, arm-in-arm with Remus Lupin, whom Christine had met only once, when she first met the Weasley's; Xenophilius Lovegood, whom she knew as the batty, eccentric publisher of the _Quibbler_- dressed in bright robes, and a girl of about her own age wearing flower in her pale-blonde hair, and whom she believed to be Xenophilius's daughter.

Christine actually found it amusing how the wizarding community regarded anything that was published in the _Quibbler_ with a grain of salt, seeing as how much more accurate and truthful it was than the _Daily Prophet_ these days- including the most recent scandals and news Voldemort and his Death Eater's, which the _Prophet_ was so prudent on ignoring lately.

"Hey," Bill said, outstretching a strong hand for Christine to shake, which she accepted. "You must be Christine- Fleur's told me loads about you. I'm Bill."

"Thanks, you too." Christine said, smiling politely, knowing very well that Fleur told her about Bill. All Fleur ever talked about was herself and how pretty she was, Bill, and how "darling" life was. "It's nice to finally meet the man that has Fleur so glowing."

"And I'm Charlie, Bill's brother. I like dragons." Charlie said nervous, feeling stupid, then comin up with something slightly more impressive to say. "I've always admired how strong and graceful- magical dragons are. And I've always believed that they had a sort of hidden sexiness about them." Charlie flirted, unable to contain himself infront someone as attractive as Christine, but thenb lushed, humbling himself upon remembering how much younger she was than him.

_Ew, _Christine thought disgustedly, but smiling anyway, and giving him brief, but polite shake of the hand, _he did_ not_ just hit on me._ She turned to Remus Lupin as he also extended his hand to her in greeting, and shaking her own firmly, but not too hard, smiling kindly. "I believe we met before at the twins' shop- I'm Remus. And this is my wife- Nymph-" he broke off as the blonde woman whom he gestured to scoffed indignantly, her golden locks suddenly flaring red in her anger and he corrected himself. "-Tonks."

Immediately, her flaming herfaded back to its' golden hue and Tonks regained her cheery disposition. "And don't forget about Teddy, Remmy!" Tonks chirped happily, beaming as she caressed her bulgin stomach fondly, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Christine noticed for the first time that Tonks's usually lean, taut stomach had stretched out quite far, and appeared as though Tonks had swallowed a watermelon whole.

"Congratulations!" They cheered, beaming happily at her, showering them comments and best wishes. "Can we feel it?" Hermione asked happily, gesturing to Tonks' belly, whom nodded fervently. Christine and Hemrione placed their hands on Tonks' stomach, and squealing excitedly as baby Teddy kicked hard.

"Ohh!" Tonks trilled cheerily, sniffing the air as the waiters levitated food and drinks over to the refreshment table. "Teddy's hungry again- and so is Mummy!" And with that, Tonks totted off, holding her stomach protectively as she attempted to avoid hitting anything or anyone with her newly swollen belly.

"Erm- honey! The ceremony is about to start!" Remus called anxiously to Tonks, rushing off after her to subdue Tonks' devouring the numerous scrumpteously prepared meals of Mrs. Weasley's doing. "Don't eat the lobster! Remember what happened the last time you tried to eat seafood?"

The foursome looked around and noticed that Remus was right- almost all the seats were full, and Bill and Charlie ran up the aisle to take their places beside each other at the little marquee. Excited, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Christine sat down in their seats symmetrical to one another- Christine occupying the one in between Harry and Hermione, as Remus accompanied Tonks to the two seats infront of them just in time to sit down while Tonks munched on an extra-gooey, extra-chocolatey brownie.

Right on time, the visitors straightened up and alerted themselves as the band struck up the opening chords of the Wedding March, and Fleur made her appearance at the beginning of the aisle, gliding gracefully down toward the marquee, arm-in-arm with Monsieur Delacour, Ginny and Gabrielle bringing up the rear, radiant in their matching gold dresses, as they threw gold and white flower petals on either sides of the aisle. Fleur looked beautiful in her elgant white gown, and Auntie Muriel's tiara finished off the look radiantly.

When they had assembled around the little marquee, and Fleur and Bill stood facing one another, hand in hand, Auntie Muriel glared at a nostalgic Tonks, who was blubbering into a handkerchief. "We gather here, brothers and sisters- friends and family, to celebrate this glorious day of holy matrimony..." began the minister.


	7. Those Three Words

**To Die For **

**Chapter Seven**

"Who is that beautiful girl?" Krum asked Harry, who was currently engaged in a conversation with Christine. By now the lush golden rays of the ceremony-provided by the sun for warmth and light- had completely depleted. The air was warm and balmy, and the stars twinkled beautifully in the velvety blue sky around a crescent moon. Many of the muggle and wizarding families had retired for the night, but the Weasley's- they were the complete opposite- the reception was still in full swing.

The dancefloor- which had been conjured to replace the marquee where Bill and Fleur were wed- was made up of tiles which flashed a different color each time it was stepped on, and were bright enough so that the party-goers could still see each other. The dainty golden chairs were now arranged around white-clothed tables lit by live fairies fluttering overhead.

Auntie Muriel- much to everyone's liking- had long since departed the festvities as soon as the crowd started to get too rowdy. Fred and George danced- or rather swayed drunkenly- in a sad, but rather comical attempt at burlesque on a table, hoisting up their robes while slurring the words to "Otto the Hero"- amongst gales of laughter. Swilling from tankards of Irish ale, they occassionally stopped to set off a new batch of their brilliant fireworks to much applause. Ron and Hermione were dancing to the raucous rythm pumped out by the wizarding rock band, and Bill was twirling Ginny and Gabrielle on either arm,w hile they laughed. Even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were "gettin' their groove on." as they said. This left Krum to share a table with Harry and Christine, brooding silently as the two of them talked.

Harry looked up to see who Krum was referring to; the surly, internationally-famous Quiddtich player was indicating to a spirited red-headed girl, radiant in gold sequins, as she slow-danced now with Mr. Weasley- the band had finally slowed down the tempo to a soft, slow waltz for a father-daughter dance. She grinned as Mr. Weasley mumbled the words under his breath to the song, stopping every so now and then to acknowledge to his daughter how he couldn't wish for a sweeter daughter. Harry smiled vaguely- the Weasley's truly were the ideal, happy family, but even as he thought it he felt a deep panging in his heart- a loneliness pending for his mother and family, and the family he may have known had they been alive. "Ginny- Ginevra if you will. Ron's sister."

"Ginevra..." Krum said coyly to himself, letting her name roll off his tongue like a fine wine, conveying an expression of deep thoughtfulness. "She's a real vixen, ain't she?"

Before Harry could even respond, Christina piped up. "Not only that." Christine encouraged, straightening as she spoke, eagerly leaning forward. "But she's also single."

"Really?" Krum remarked with interest, stroking his stubbly chin in thought, smirking slightly to himself. As if on cue, Ginny trotted over to where they sat at the table, her long red curls bouncing with each step, and wearing a bright smile that lit up her whole face; she looked simply radiant.

"Hi, Christine- Hey Harry!" Ginny gushed, giving Harry her most winning smile, and he returned it kindly. "Um- Harry. I was just wondering- do you want to- you know, dance?" She stuttered nervously, her eyes gleaming hopefully.

"Erm- actually," Harry said, grinning shyly at Christine. "I was actually just going to ask Christine the very same. Raincheck?"

"Yeah, sure!" Ginny quavered, biting her lip to force back a moan of despair, tears threatening to escape the sanctity of her eyelids, as she watched them premonade hand in hand to the dancefloor.

_What was I thinking? _she thought miserably. wiping a warm, moist, unwanted tear from her eye and sniffing a little. _He loves her now- not me. She's got everything- she's beautiful, sweet, smart, and rich. She's perfect._

Krum frowned to himself in obvious displeasure. Harry had always come across him as a good-hearted, moral-willed person- so why was he being so dismissive of this fiery-haired beauty- and his best friends' sister no less! Most of Krum's fans made him out to be this hunky, conceited womanizer, but in reality, he couldn't be more different. His own father left the family when he was only five, leaving him to be raised by his mother, and he grew up to be close to his mum, and rather sensitive. He hated to see women cry.

"There, there." he said sympathetically, in his husky Bulgarian accent, patting Ginny comfortingly on the back, and she broke down into tears. She was usually good at maintaining her composure- until someone hugged her- then the waterworks came. "Now why is a beautiful lady such as you so sad on her brothers wedding day? You should be celebrating, not grieving, love." Viktor said softly, giving her an encouraging smile and handing her an unused tissue from the table."

"Th-thank you." Ginny stammered, wiping the tears away with the napkin, feeling silly, and rather ashamed of herself. It was Bill and Fleur's wedding- the day that was supposed to be all about them and being happy, and she was being selfish, crying because she didn't get what she wanted. She gave Krum a watery smile and he grinned charmingly back at her, making her stomach flutter slightly.

"There you go- there's that smile." he said sweetly, and she smiled even wider. "You should never cry, you know- you look so beautiful when you smile. Ginevra, isn't it?- your name?"

"Yeah." she said with a shy smile. She had always expected Krum to be an insensitive, arrogant prat, but he was turning out to be nothing but sweet and caring- far from how they described him in _TWITCHES, _or the _Prophet_. It was surprising to her how down-to-earth he was.

_Ginevra, _Ginny thought gushilly, blushing slightly. _He makes my name sound so beautiful and mature. No one has ever called me by my real name other than Auntie Muriel and mum when they get mad._

"I'm Viktor Krum." he said grinning, and she laughed.

"I know." she replied, giving him a genuine smile which he couldn't help but return. "You play for Bulgaria. I'm a loyal Harpies fan, but you're the most brilliant seeker I have ever seen."

"Oh! You like Quidditch then, do you?" He said, surprised. Alot of the girls that he had met didn't follow Quidditch, or even know what team he played for. All they ever cared of was his social status and his money.

"Actually- I more than like it. I love it." Ginny replied enthusiastically, starting to feel more than better. "I play Quidditch too- not professionally obviously, but at Hogwarts I play for my House- Gryffindor." She was actually starting to feel glad that Harry had ditched her- talking with Krum was nice.

"Really? What position?" he asked with genuine interest- this girl was really something- original- one of a kind. Harry had no idea what he was missing out on.

"Seeker." Ginny said with a smile.

"That's vunderful!" he said, grinning. "We ought to play a game then or something some time. Hey- I know I'm not exactly The-Boy-Who-Lived-status, but- would you do me the honor of dancing with you?"

"Yeah, " Ginny said, standing up, beaming. She didn't need Harry after all. "I'd like that." She said sweetly, slipping her hand into his, and letting him lead her onto the dancefloor.

"Hey, Harry!" Christine whispered into his ear, just a waltz ended. "Come on, let's get out of here!" Taking Harry by the hand, Christine led him off the dancefloor, and out of the chaotic garden, through the backdoor, across the kitchen, through the living room, and out the front door onto the front lawn.

It was much quieter here- the loud noises and music from the party much fainter. The navy-blue sky was clealry visible as well as the pearlescent stars that dazzled it, its' beauty unperturbed by the flashing lights of fairies, lanterns, fireworks, or even the ridiculously tacky seventies-disco-hip dancefloor. Here, the grass was wet and shining with dew; the trees swayed gently in the light wamr breeze, the air cool and damp.

"Finally," Christine sighed in relief. "Finally- away from all that racket." She plopped down on her bottom- regardless of the fact that her beautiful- and expensive, at that- dress would now be ruined with grass-stains. Then- grinning- she pulled Harry down beside her, and scooted even closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder- content.

"I just love the summer- don't you?" she asked quietly, a small smile curling her lips. "The stars are so beautiful at night."

"Yeah," he said dazedly, as though he wasn't fully there. He couldn't believe this- he was almost nervous. He was sitting alone with a beautiful girl in the middle of the night, while everyone else was at the party, and they had no idea that two of their guests were missing. It was...exciting.

"Hey- Christine." Harry started, uncomfortably. "I was- uh- I was just wondering- would you erm- like to be my- I mean, would you like to you know date me?" He said this all so fast and inaccurately that he'd be surprised if she understood even one word he said.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing?" She asked smirking. His insides squirmed a little bit, not sure what she meant by that remark, and praying she wasn't going to laugh at him.

"Um- I dunno, what d'you mean?" he asked anxiously.

"What I mean is-" she said with a grin grin. "we're alone out here at night, when no one else is."

"Soo..." Harry said dumbly- he was getting the picture, he just wanted her to say it literally- for closure.

Christine rolled her eyes, laughing falsely to cover her obvious annoyance. "Yes." she clarified, her expression arranged carfeully to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation, when all she really wanted to do was just go to bed. Sweet though he was, Harry could sometimes be stupid and it annoyed her.

"Great." Harry concurred, his face cracking over into a grin. He leaned over, brushing Christine's hair out of her face, bringing his face ever closer to Christines...

"I can't believe I trusted you!" choked a familiar voice. Harry and Christine both froze where they were, their faces inches apart, before they looked up to find a despaired Ginny.

"I though that we could actually be friends!" Ginny cried, tears running down her flushed cheeks for the now the second time that night. She cast one last distraught glance at the two of them before storming up the porch steps and through the front door.

"Ginny!" Christine called after the youngest Weasley, but the damage was already done.

There was a faint crack like a whip from a nearby entanglement of bushes. Christine swore under her breath in rapid-fire French as a hood-shrouded figure appeared in the overgrown shrubbery. "I-I've got to go." Christine lied quickly.

She then unceremoniously left, disappearing into the woods. She spotted the person easilly, and she dragged him deeper into forrest surrounding the Weasley's home. When she was positive that would not be seen or heard, she snatched off the strangers' hood, revealing Draco Malfoy's blonde, handsome good-looks.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" she hissed. Her attempt was to sound alarmed, not bitchy, but that was just how it happened to come out.

"I wanted to see you." he said, his grey pleading, and his voice laced with longing and affection.

"Oh!" she said quietly, letting her guard down, her and expression softening. She wrapped her arms around Draco's neck as if she couldn't get close enough to him, an empty loneliness filling her. She had missed him terribly for the three weeks they had been apart, but seeing Draco now had just put the full impact of how much she had missed and longed for him.

"I missed you too." she said softly, burying her head in his neck before lifting it again to kiss him, driven longing and love.

Draco returned her affection eagerly, relieved to be in Christine's warm, soft embrace again. It was soothing- like a cool rain after a long, hot drought. He felt cheesy just thinking it, but even though they had been apart for only less than a month it felt like it had been forever, but he knew it was true.

"I want you so bad..." Draco whispered into her ear, sending a shiver of excitement coursing through her body. She could smell the seductive fumes of his cologne and her stomach ached with longing.

"I want you too." Christine said, tightening her arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Draco claimed her lips with long, searing, passionate kiss and she returned it lovingly, his arms wrapped around her waist as he pressed himself against her body. She felt as if her body were on fire- she had never felt this way before- it was intoxicating.

"Are you sure?" he asked, concernedly, kissing her temple gently, and running an affectionate hand through her long, luxurious golden locks. He loved her- the last thing he wanted to do was push when she wasn't ready.

Christine was not only sure, she was positive. They were meant to be- everything pointed out to it. They had known each other their whole lives- they had even taken baths together. They had always loved each other, and she knew that would never change, so why bother waiting? She had always known she'd up marrying him in the end anyways.

"Yes," she said, allowing him to pull down onto the grass, captivating with yet another sizzling kiss. "I love you, Draco." Christine whispered sweetly into his neck.

Draco grinned at her, pulling away from her a little so he could look into her crystal-blue eyes, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer. "I love you too," he said softly...


	8. Falling For The Victim

**Chapter Eight: Falling For The Victim**

When Christine woke up the next morning, the idea of death seemed friendly and inviting. She felt gloomy and disgusted with herself, sick both emotionally and physically. The hangover wasn't doing much to help her, either. Her head was pounding like a sledgehammer, her stomach churning nauseatingly. Her skin felt super-sensitive to everything she touched and her bladder was near exploding point- protesting for relief with every unsteady step she took toward the bathroom. The sunlight streaming into the hallway through the window was too bright for her sensitive eyes, and the eruption of bangs and explosions from Fred and George's room a floor above were only adding to her headache. But the physical pain was only the half of what was irritating her.

She had just made love for the first time last night, with the one person she was presumeably in love with. She had one week left until she, Harry, Hermione and the two youngest Weasley's departed the Burrow for Hogwarts. The time that she had spent there had been fun and interesting, no doubt, but filled with loneliness and longing for the Malfoy's, particularly Draco. She had given herself to him in the most private and intimate way, hoping to make that one hour longer, more precious, and to give him the one thing she had denied him up until then to show him she loved him, yet, in turn, made herself more vulnerable in the end. Her plan had backfired dramatically.

Where being intimate with Draco was supposed to bring them closer and deliver happiness, closer, and relief, it had done nothing but leave her feeling more empty and lonely than ever when he had to leave her. She felt dirty and violated, and though she had enjoyed being with him last night, she regretted it dearly now. She had given her only virtue, and she couldn't ever get it back. She hated him for making her feel that way, and she hated herself even more for letting him.

And then there was Ginny- the look on her face last night was so betrayed and heart-broken. Christine didn't fully understand why Ginny's reaction had such an impact on her- after all, Ginny had resolved to make her stay at the Burrow as miserable as she could since Christine's arrival. Christine didn't even get to kiss Harry- she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty and ashamed of herself on Ginny's behalf, but she did, and it was irritating and unnerving. Since when did she care about people's feelings?

When Christine reached the bathroom, an incontrollable wave of nausea caused her to double-over. Slamming the toilet seat up, she held back her hair and leaned over the toilet to retching into it. After a few minutes, when she was sure that all of her stomachs contents had been evacuated, she got up and flushed the toilet, wiping her mouth and began vigorously washing her mouth and teeth with a generous amount of toothpaste at the sink.

As she brushed, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and tried not to be disgusted. Her skin was pale (or at least more than usual), light shadows were visible beneath her eyes, her slick and damp from sweating in her sleep; she hadn't even been able to change out of her now grass-stained dress before she passed out.

_Great, _Christine thought darkly to herself, _not only do I feel like crap, but I look like it too. _Before she could collaborate herself, there was a loud, impatient knock from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Oi, Christine! You in there?!" Came George's voice from the hallway. She groaned and dragged herself over to the door. "No." she said, listlessly.

"Huh?" George asked, bewildered, then rapped on the door, more loudly this time. "Oi, Christine! Get your bottom out here, before I blast this door open." She groaned in reply, reaching to turn the doorknob, but was already too late. She could hear George mutter an incantation on the other side and barely managed to step out harms way before the door exploded and fell to the linoleum floor in a shower of splinters.

"You could have waited. I was going to open the door. I could've been naked, George." Christine said ignorantly, her head throbbing painfully as she spoke. Her hands automatically flew to her forehead, as though holding it would make the pain go away. It didn't.

"You're not the only one who has to pee, you know." George replied, rolling his eyes at her, holding out a glass filled with a murky brown liquid to Christine. "Besides, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up. Whoever said Frenchies can't hold a drink was seriously mislead. You look trashed."

She made a face at the mystery potion, unsure of whether or not it would be one of his pranks. It looked like watered down hot chocolate, or dirty paint water and gave off an indescribable odor. "How is that supposed to help me suppress the urge to pee?" She asked wryly, eying him suspiciously, "And more or less, how I supposed to keep that down?"

"It's not supposed to stop you from using the bathroom, blondie." George said gloatingly, looking quite pleased with his little discovery. "It just gets rid of your hang over; that there'll have you healthy and back to normal in no more than five seconds guaranteed."

"What's in it?" She asked, still skeptical. The infamous Weasley Twins were known to be smooth-talkers and appreciate a good practical joke.

"Nothing serious, really." George said casually, making silly faces at himself in the mirror. "A shot of Firewhisky, pepper-up potion, melted chocolate and ginseng."

"O…kay…" She said uncertainly. She took the glass and looked into it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Then, without further interrogation, she pinched her nose, tipped her head back and swallowed the potion in one gulp. Fortunately, it didn't taste the way it looked, and she waited for the potion to kick into effect, ticking off the seconds as she did so.

_One…two…three…_ she thought. With each passing second she could gradually feel the pounding in her head subsiding, until it went away all together; the intensity of the light seemed less severe to her tired eyes, and the nausea ceased. She felt better than ever. She still felt broody though, some lingering anger and guilt was still there, just beneath the surface, but she put it aside, allowing herself to smile gratefully at George. "Thanks. I feel great!"

"Good…now, err…if you don't mind-" George said hastily, with a wink and Christine made a face. She didn't need a visual of George using the bathroom.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Christine said, repairing the shattered door, and then making her way back to Ginny' room to get herself a change of clothes. She grabbed a wrinkled pair of jeans, a tanktop, sweater, and a pair of sneakers and new socks (it was chilly that morning, but warmer later). When she returned to the bathroom George had left, and it was just as clean as before the door, which had been magically mended and replaced properly on its hinges, was blown to smithereens.

Christine hopped into the shower and took much less time washing than usual, but scrubbing more vigorously. In a family as big as the Weasley's you could never be sure when someone might just barge through a room. She made a silent promise to herself that she would never again make herself as vulnerable around Draco as she had the other night, that she would be happy, and that she wouldn't do anything else to make herself feel guilty, or upset the Weasley's. At least- not more than I already have to, she thought guilty, with a gulp.

When she was done showering and getting dressed, she pulled her hair into an effortlessly neat ponytail with an elastic and made her way down the four flights of stairs and into the Weasley's kitchen. There, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were already situated around the old wooden table, waiting for breakfast, and Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley had already departed for work. Ginny- who was busy making toast for everyone, and Mrs. Weasley, who was frying bgacon in a pan, worked laboriously as they prepared the meal.

When Ginny noticed Christine enter the kitchen and approach her, she slammed so hard down on the lever that it snapped completely off the toaster. Christine gave her a hopeful, apologetic smile and mended it with her wand. "Erm… Hi, Ginny." Christine said nervously.

"Good morning, Christine, how lovely to see you." Ginny said a flat, clipped tone. She kept her eyes focused on the glowing red beams in the toaster, her expression indifferent, almost bored. It took all the inner-strength she possessed to keep control of herself. What she really wanted was to toast Christine's _hands._

"I'm really sorry about what happened last night." Christine said sincerely, her blue eyes pleading almost. "I just thought that…since you and Harry, you know…"

"Really, Christine, I couldn't care less about what you and Harry do with each other, we broke up." Ginny said through gritted teeth, "Besides, I have a date with Krum after breakfast."

"Oh, um. That's nice, but please, call me Chris. All my friends do." She replied timidly- Ginny looked like rubber-band, extended to it's full length- ready to snap at any second.

"Like I said, _Christine,_ I really don't care." Ginny snapped.

"Play nice, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said vaguely, adding the bacon to the plates before starting to scramble some sighed.

"So…am I… forgiven?" Christine said uncertainly, forcing herself to keep eye contact.

"Sure, whatever, if that's what you want to call it." Ginny said bluntly. "Hey, mum, I think Krum's here early. I'll just grab something to eat on the way."

"Alright, dear. Behave yourself." Mrs. Weasley said, just as absentmindedly. Ginny grabbed her bag off the back of Harry's chair, shot Christine a look, and left out the front door, allowing it to slam shut behind her.

With a sigh, Christine crossed the kitchen and sat down at the wooden table between Harry and Ron. "Hi," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself for reassurance, as if she were cold.

"Hey," they replied awkwardly, as Mrs. Weasley finished dishing up breakfast and placed their meals in front of them. They ate mostly in silence. If Mrs. Weasley thought this unusual, however, then she did not mention it, but instead left the room to continue with the rest of her morning routine.

When Christine was little more than half-way through eating her meal, she pushed her plate away and Ron, who had already finished his food, made a grab for the plate. However, Hermione kicked him under the table and he withdrew. "She hates me," she said glaring at her food with disinterest- it was delicious no doubt, but she wasn't in the eating mood.

"She's sixteen, she hates everyone. If she doesn't like us being together she'll just have to deal with it. I made my decision long before I met you, she knows why we can't stay together." Harry said reasonably.

" Yeah, she hates everybody." Christine muttered darkly to herself, "especially me."

"Nah, just forget about it. She hates me half the time and I'm her brother," Ron said dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. "She's doing the bratty thing- being the youngest she's used to getting everything she wants and now that she's not, she's acting out. She probably just has her…what's it called again?...mental period?"

"Ron!" Hermione groaned as Harry winced and covered his ears. "You don't say stuff like that out loud. And it's _menstrual_, not _mental!_"

"You say tomato, I say tomahto." He said indifferently.

"Okay…could we please stop talking about Ginny's body fluids and functions, please?" Harry said uncomfortably, twitching unvoluntarilly. He never felt comfortable talking about girls, or the weird things their bodies did, let alone be around them.

"Anyways," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Harry and Ron. "She's just having a hard transition, that's all. Just let things play out and she'll get over it eventually. She has to- you're practically family now."

Christine felt sick from the words. They genuinely cared about her, and she was planning to kill Harry. Regardless of whether she wanted to not. "Yeah, thanks, guys." Christine said in what she hoped would be a convincing tone. "I truly don't deserve you, you know." Well, at least she knew _that_ sounded honest.

"Oh, rubbish." Hermione said, giving Christine a supportive hug. "We love you, and you know it." I do, Christine thought guiltily

"And I love you guys too," she said, with an encouraging smile for Harry, and this time she truly meant it. "I think I'm going to go for a walk though, if you don't mind."

"Umm, okay. We'll see you later then, I guess." Hermione said, still not completely convinced that Christine was feeling any better.

"I'll come with you." Harry said eagerly, pushing his chair away from the table and following Christine to the backdoor.

"Oh no, that's okay. You don't have to, you can stay if you'd like." Christine objected, hoping that she didn't sound rude or too dismissive of him when she said it.

"No. I'll come." He insisted, taking her hand and opening the door.

"Yeah, me too." Ron said dumbly, obviously not understanding that Harry wanted to be alone with Christine.

"No, Ronald," Hermione disagreed, "you can stay here with me."

"Oh, umm okay." Ron exclaimed, apprehension dawning on his face. "Later then."

Harry and Christine walked deep into the woods surrounding the Weasley's home, until they reached an overgrown field, where the grass was up to their calves. The sun, for the first time that summer, was not harsh and unbearable, warming them instead of burning their skin, and a soft, gentle breeze swept over the clearing.

"What's wrong?" he asked nervously after an awkward five minutes of silence.


	9. Hogwarts

To Die For- Chapter Nine

The following Monday found Harry, Hermione, Christine, and the two youngest Weasley's rushing around the Burrow in last-minute search of long-misplaced belongings (Christine found it astounding how quickly and far her possessions had spread around the Weasley's home during the month she briefly spent there). Mrs. Weasley bustled frantically around the kitchen, preparing what would be their last meal from her until they returned for the Christmas holidays, muttering anxiously under her breath about being late.

The whole house was in a state of disaster in everyone's haste to get finished on time, and by the time everyone had situated around the Weasley's warm, packed kitchen, everyone looked worn, and rather out of breath. Exhausted already, they talked very little, and scarfed down their meals quickly- they were in a race against the clock, and, so far, they were not winning.

When they had finished eating, everyone donned their traveling cloaks and gathered in the living room, and performed final checks on their trunks, making sure that they hadn't forgotten anything, as they waited for the "guard" to appear. Already finished, or perhaps too exhausted to care about checking, Christine slumped on her trunk; she had already stayed up past midnight as it was, and they had all gotten up so early she might as well have not slept at all. Her eyelids seemed far too heavy to keep open and she considered rubbing her eyes before it occurred to her that she had make-up n. So, instead, she stood up and slowly paced, until gradually the guard began to appear.

The first to arrive was Mad-Eye Moody, and Christine was quite pleased with herself to see that the so-called deranged ex-auror had nothing to criticize her about. Next to show up was Hagrid, who greeted them all with a cheery hello and a bone-crushing hug, before going out to play with chickens, as he was far too tall to stand in the house. Not long after followed Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mundungus Fletcher. Finally, the guard was completely assembled when Remus Lupin arrived and they were all about to exit when a loud popping resounded from outside, followed by an anxious, but none-the-less delighted cry of "Tonks!" from Hagrid.

"Oh for the love of all that is holy!" Remus groaned exasperatedly, raking his face with his hands. "She's going to be the death of herself, the baby, and ultimately me, I swear. I told her not to come!"

"Remus," Hermione chastised, rolling her eyes at his exasperation. "You really should try to be a bit more understanding of her position."

"And what would that be?" Remus asked, just as sarcastically; he could already hear the chickens in the front yard squawking and flapping about in panic as Tonks made her way across the front yard.

"Well, "Hermione said, in a tone that suggested that the answer were as simple as the fact that two plus two equals four. "She used to be one of the top guns, an extraordinary auror, and all of a sudden she can't afford risking being brave and valiant wrangling up Death Eaters. She's having a baby, and you're off saving the world every day, where the most exciting that her life gets is stuffing her mouth with crisps all day on the couch. She just wants to feel like she's important, you know?"

"That's not the point!" Remus said frustrated, "She's two weeks from her due-date. She can't just be going out and doing things like that. She'll hurt herself and the baby."

"Speak of the devil," Harry muttered just as Tonks waddled into the room, looking extremely unbalanced and extremely pregnant, and her stomach whacking the door so hard that it slammed against the wall, and she giggled, nearly tripping on the carpeting. Remus seized her quickly by the arms, and pulled her upright before she was able to fall, leading her over to the couch where he gently eased her down.

"Nymphadora! What are you doing here? I already told you you can't come! Its' too dangerous." Remus growled in his frustration; she glared back just as fiercely.

"And _I _already told _you_ I don't care! I'm coming whether you like it or not, and I _told_ you not to call me that!" She snapped angrily, her hair- which had just been a bright purple- flaring red in her anger, but then faded just as quickly. She reacquired her mellow cheery disposition before grinning at the rest of them with a chirpy, "'Allo, mates!" as though nothing had happened and they had not just witnessed a marital spat.

"You're not going, Tonks, and that's the end of discussion. " Remus said in a final, clipped tone. "You're staying here, and that's that."

"Make me." She snapped viscously, glowering at him, resonating heat and fury. It only took her a minute to understand what she said would mean to Remus, but it was too late for her to prepare herself.

"Expelliarmus." Remus chanted softly and Tonks's wand flew effortlessly from her robe pocket, sailing over to Remus, who caught it, and placed it on top of a high, out-of-reach shelf, before raising his own wand again, this time, aiming it at Tonks.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he muttered; Tonks's whole body snapped into a straight, rigid position, with her legs together, and her arms pinned to her side, before she slid off the couch and onto the floor on her back. Carefully, Remus scooped her up into his arms and laid her on the couch.

"Sorry, love, but I have to go now." Remus said sincerely, his expression apologetic, as he kissed her cheek and forehead gently. It was obvious that he did not enjoy having to resort to such extreme measures to merely protect her from herself. He summoned a portable DVD- a birthday gift to Mr. Weasley (who, for a wizard, displayed an odd fondness for muggles, or non-wizarding folk as they were called, and their strange contraptions) from Hermione the previous year-, still playing Sponge-bob Squarepants from when Mr. Weasley had been watching it earlier and set it on the table in front of Tonks so she could watch it.

Since Tonks was under the effects of the full-body-bind curse, she was only able to move her eyes, which glared glassily at Remus, her gaze full of betrayal and angry accusation. Had she been able to speak, Christine had the distinct impression that it would not be very nice. Everyone, even Hermione, turned to Remus, feeling sorry for him. Remus loved her more than her own life, and he was going to pay dearly when he returned for merely trying to protect her and the unborn baby.

Everyone bid Tonks farewell, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Christine all taking turns to hug her (Ginny shoving Christine surreptitiously to get to Tonks first). Afterward, they left the house, shutting the door behind them, and, with a sharp turn, and a swish of their cloaks, disapparated, just as they made it outside of the gates…

About an hour later, after saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the guard and getting their luggage situated, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Christine sat comfortably in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, watching the scenery fly past in the window and talking casually (Ginny had left to sit with her friends). Christine sat unusually still in her seat beside Harry, taciturn. She would occasionally nod and gave a vague, irrelevant reply when spoken to, but was otherwise unresponsive.

Are you alright?" Harry whispered in her ear, concerned. His hand twitched toward Christine's, and he grasped it, holding it gently in his own.

"I'm fine." She said nervously. "If being terrified and anxious can qualify as being fine." She looked at him slowly, her icy-blue eyes worried. "They're going to find out." She said. This is not really what was on her mind- she was not scared of the Slytherin's or Draco for that matter. Nor Crabbe and Goyle. She just wanted nothing to do with them. She hated them right now, and desired absolutely no contact. She really had grown quite fond and attached to her new friends; they made her feel safe, happy- normal.

That's all that mattered right now- her friends. The one's that protected for no reason other than the kindness of their hearts, despite everything they did and did not know about her and her family.

She'd spent the most of the previous night thinking about solutions to her conflict. She'd find a way to save to them all when the time would come that it would matter. She'd find a way to save Harry; to save herself from both death and the guilt and sorrow of killing someone she cared about and whom had defended her from the very start; to save his friends and family from the grief of his death, but most of all to save him.

"No, they can't. Remember?" Harry reminded her, gesturing to her reflection in the window- only it wasn't her reflection. Where Christine should have sat, beside Harry, sat a pretty girl with pixie-like features. She had pale skin, rosy cheeks, gold-flecked blue-green eyes, and straight, light brown hair that hung to the middle of her back. The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and Christine instinctively pulled at a strand of her real hair- long golden curls- and sighed in relief.

The enchantment had been Hermione's idea of course; and ingenious one at that. To anyone whom Christine did not consider to be a friend or family, she would appear to be a completely different person- the girl in her reflection, for instance; but if, say, Mrs., or Harry were to look at her, all they would see would be Christine, no different in appearance than she had been before the spell had taken effect.

However, there was a set-back that Hermione could not have foreseen. Draco and Christine were now connected in the most concrete way, whether she liked it or not. Also, she knew that, beneath the surface of her anger towards him, she still cared about him, though exactly how much, she wasn't sure. In the past few days she had been growing closer and more affectionate towards Harry than she could ever have dreamed possible. As for Crabbe and Goyle, she never _loved_ them, pursay, but they were just too stupid to be held accountable for their decisions. They were like robots, almost- with Death Eaters for parents and friends they had been practically programmed to turn out the way they did. Regardless of what she knew they were and what they were capable of, she felt a smaller, more protective form of affection for them. Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world would see her as Shannon Brody, but Snape, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle would still know her to be Christine; she needn't worry about Snape, though- he understood her; he could be trusted.

"It's hard to get used to; I keep forgetting that only we can see me as myself." She said quietly, lowering her gaze to the floor. If only she had a normal family, if her parents hadn't joined the Death Eaters, perhaps she would be sitting here exactly as she was, but happy, unorphaned, and unburdened by guilt and potential death.

"Don't worry," Hermione said reassuringly, with a smile, "We'll help you remember. Besides, if you forget your new name you can just mutter something in French and pretend not to understand."

"Oh, yeah. That's right." Christine agreed- she hadn't thought of that. Putting on her poker-face, Christine grinned, and said. "Well maybe I should go practice with my new identity. I have to use the bathroom."

"Okay," Hermione said, looking relieved to see that she had made Christine feel a little better. "Now, what's your name, and why did you transfer?"

"My name is Shannon Brody, and I'm the daughter of Mrs. Weasley's illegitimate half-sister; my father left me when my mother was still pregnant with me, and my mother was tortured and murdered for information by the Death Eaters. The ministry tracked down my Aunt Molly, and she is now my legal guardian?" Christine said uncertainly. It was a lot to remember, and confusing to recite.

"Perfect," Hermione said with an encouraging smile. "Just don't forget."

"I won't," Christine promised before ducking out of the door and into the crowded hallway. At least she could be grateful for that- if Draco was hanging out with his friends in the hall, the crowd would make it less easy to spot her.

She hadn't actually intended to use the bathroom; she just wanted to take a small walk to cool down and blow off some steam. However, she decided, now that I'm here, I might as well go in so I can keep up appearances.

So she entered the small one-person bathroom and stood in front of the sink, looking at her- or rather, Shannon's- reflection in the cracked and scratched mirror. It was a strange thing- Christine knew that she was herself- with fair skin, dirty-blonde hair, and blue eyes, but the raven-haired beauty in the mirror looked so real that it was mind-boggling. She suddenly realized that if someone were to touch her hair it might be suspicious if they felt curly tendrils, rather than smooth, straight, shiny locks and made her a mental to stock-up on more Sleek-Easy potion.

She was sure that at least ten minutes had passed since she left the others by now, so, not wanting them to worry, she opened the door and felt her jaw drop.

"Oi, Chrissy!" Crabbe's low, powerful voice rumbled a small smile, or rather grimace it looked more like, turned up the corners of his mouth. He pulled into a one-armed, bone-crushing hug- her eyes popped open in shock; she had been caught off-guard.

"Cree-see?" Christine gasped her own nickname, quickly adapting the French accent she had learned to mimic from listening to her parents and the other students of Beauxbatons. Most people found it amusing that she kept an English accent when her parents' were so profoundly French, but she had been born and raised in Britain. Though she spoke French fluently, she found it an unnecessary hassle to speak it unless needed, and didn't accent unless actually speaking the language.

"Qui? Je ne parle pas anglais!" She spluttered in rapid-fire French, pushing him away and backing off slightly, hoping to keep the appearance of being alarmed. "Qui êtes-vous?"

"Huh?" Crabbe said, his large furry eyebrows scrunching together to form a unibrow, a crease wrinkling his forehead as he concentrated on thinking. "Christine! I didn't know you speak Italian!"

Christine almost smirked- almost. It would be one thing if she had been speaking Spanish and he confused it with Italian. But French? She could never stay mad at Crabbe and Goyle- they were just so dumb, they had always been the closest thing to having a sibling to her. But she couldn't be with them now- he was in Slytherin, and she had already been reserved a spot in Gryffindor- two rival houses.

Christine's gaze followed Crabbe's as his attention suddenly moved past her, farther down the hallway, although she already had a pretty good idea at what had distracted him. "Oi, Malfoy! Christine's here!" Crabbe bellowed in excitement.

Christine threw up her hood over her head and attempted to hurry away before Draco could get to them, but Crabbe grabbed her by the neck of her robes and effortlessly dragged her back. Draco approached with a broad grin, snatching off her hood.

"See! Told you she's here!" Crabbe said delightedly, looking quite pleased with himself. "Told you it was Christine!"

"No, Crabbe. That's actually not Christine- Christine had red hair remember? This girl is blonde." Draco said in his smooth, manipulative voice, lying without even breaking a sweat, a grin gracing his face.

Crabbe contorted his face in concentration, as he thought, trying to remember, and turning pink from the effort of it. Finally he said, in a more quiet, less excited tone, "Oh, yeah, I remember!"

"This is my new girlfriend- I told you about her, remember?" Draco continued, but suddenly broke off, looking at Christine expectantly.

"Shannon." Christine said flatly, obviously displeased, dropping the accent- Crabbe wouldn't notice the difference, he didn't pick up on small things like that. She glared angrily at the two of them, annoyed.

"Come on." She said through clenched teeth, opening the door to the bathroom, and walking in, and he followed in, shutting the door behind himself.

"Well this will be interesting," he said smugly, grinning as he slipped his arms around her waist, and lowering his face to kiss Christine, but she seized his face and pushed him away roughly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Christine snapped, shooting him a look that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "if looks could kill".

"What does it look like?" Draco asked, still confused, "Are you mad at me? What did I do?" he reached for her hand, but she slapped it away impatiently.

"Don't touch me, okay." She said- it wasn't a request, it was an order. "Just leave me alone, alright? I don't want this anymore, we can't be together, get it?"

"Why not?" he demanded, losing his patience now as well, his cheeks flushing pink in his frustration.

"Think logically, Malfoy," Christine said coolly, and he flinched at her use of his surname. She moved towards the door, and he stood in her way. "You're a Slytherin, I'm in Gryffindor- think about it." She said. She was afraid to tell him that the real reason why she was dumping him was because she was falling for her victim and growing fond of the Weasley's, and the muggle-born Hermione Granger. Draco was rash, and when pushed too far could be dangerous.

"Finally satisfied, Draco moved aside and followed her into the hall. "I get it, now." He said mischievously, grinning. "This could be exciting, you know, dating a Gryffindor- like a game." He suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her, not hard and sloppy- soft, but some intimacy lingered.

"No, stop it, Draco," she begged, wriggling in his embrace to escape, but he held tighter, and she almost whimpered. "That's not what I meant." When he refused to relinquish his hold, she bit his shoulder hard, and he finally loosened his grip enough for her to move, swearing loudly. She started to walk way but he grabbed her again by the hand.

"I said don't touch me! Leave me alone!" She screamed. And, surprisingly, he did- though he did not release his grasp on her, it slackened slightly, his mouth curling into an arrogant smirk at something she couldn't see. She felt someone tug on her free hand and tuned to see Harry, Ron and Hermione on either side of him, all of whom had pointed their wands directly at Draco.

"Stay away form her," Harry growled, and Hermione gave him a disgusted look-Ron looked furious. "You don't get another warning." At first it looked as though Malfoy was about to come up with a witty retort, but Christine ripped her hand from him, biting her lip to stifle a whimper as she embraced Harry, and Draco was lost for words.

His mouth dropped open in shock and horror, arms limp at his sides, unable to move or speak. All he could do was watch as Christine left with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, both of which had slung a comforting arm around Christine. Before turning around the corner, she peeked over her shoulder for one last look at Draco's, shocked but composed face, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Christine and Draco were both different from each other in so many ways, in one way they were alike. She could see in his steely-grey eyes determination and fury, and knew that he was too stubborn to give up on her- he never would, that's just how he was. He always got what he wanted, and when he did not, he was relentless until he finally received it. Christine had always been the more guarded of them, she had learned at an early age that only the weak allowed themselves to be seen vulnerable, and only the powerful and strong-willed could survive in the world- petty emotions were mediocre. Thus, Christine was too stubborn to let him see her cry. She was much too dignified for that.

The rest of the ride went by much faster, and after a while, Christine lightened up. When the snack trolley came around, they pooled their money to buy a small mountain of every sweet and candy they had to offer. After they had consumed all or must their snacks, they entertained themselves by playing Exploding Snap.

When it came close to the time they would board off the Hogwarts Express, they pulled on their robes over their clothes. Finally, the train came to a stop, and they all left the Hogwarts Express, finding a carriage with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, both of which Christine took an instant liking to. It was quite pleasant- both Neville and Luna were equally friendly and inviting, and Christine wished she had tried to spend more time to get to know Luna at the wedding- she found her rather amusing.

When the carriages finally trundled to a stop, they hopped out, and only then was Christine able to fully see the greatness of the castle. "How does it compare to Beauxbatons?" Hermione mused, delighted by Christine's amazed expression.

Christine was in awe- she had seen Hogwarts in pictures of course, but they did no justice to the beautiful, massive castle. She enjoyed the brightly lit halls of the elegant palace that served as Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, but it was much too flamboyant and royal for her style.

Hogwarts had an alluring mysteriousness that Beauxbatons lacked, even the air crackled with magical energy, and it gave her the excitement of hidden secrets just waiting to be discovered. The walls were of pale stones, and hung with tapestries of the house-teams of Hogwarts- red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw, yellow for Hufflepuff, and green for Slytherin; marble and tiled floors, and rich carpeting. It was like walking into a medieval fairytale. "Cool." She breathed.

They led her into the entrance hall and she sub-consciously glanced to the table where all the Slytherin's sat, relieved, and yet somehow alarmed to see that Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle's seats were all vacant, before sitting with her friends at the Gryffindor table... After a few speeches and toast from the new Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, they dug in the for the annual Beginning of the Year feast and ate their hearts out, until even Christine thought her jeans felt a little tight around her waist. It was then that they made their way up the several flights of stairs, down the seventh-floor hallway, and gave the new password (Flabby Crabs) to the Fat Lady, they relaxed in the Gryffindor common room for a while, Christine trying to avoid stares, before deciding to retire for the evening.

Bidding Ron and Harry goodnight, and parting him with a kiss (causing yet another angry outburst from Ginny), she and Hermione ascended the flight of spiral steps to the seventh-year dorm. Warm, full, and sleepy from over-indulging in the delicious food, she exchanged night wishes with Hermione before climbing under the sheets in her bed, feeling peaceful and completely at ease. She knew that everything had just become much more dangerous, and that the conflict would only increase, but, lying in her warm, fluffy, four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower, surrounded by her friends and the strong, sturdy, protective stone walls of the castle, Christine couldn't remember a time when she ever felt more safe and happy.


	10. Forever and Always

**Chapter Ten**

**Always and Forever**

Surprisingly, Christine found it easy to adjust to life at Hogwarts. She made friends easily- everyone was warm and welcoming, and sympathized over her misfortunate life. Classes were a breeze- she was just as successful and intelligent at Hogwarts as she had previously been at Beauxbatons. Her favorite aspect of the school was the food- she found the English meals to be a great deal more appetizing and satisfying than the light, grotesque-looking, and even worse tasting so-called delicacy they served at her former school. She was quite satisfied with the fact that she would never have to eat escargot, or frogs' legs, or calves' brains ever again.

In fact, the only real problem she had was remembering where all her classes were, as Hogwarts was a great deal larger than Beauxbatons, and the staircases, classes, and hallways had the peculiar habit of either disappearing, relocating itself, or disguising itself to blend in with your surroundings. However- when there were so many people eager to help point out which direction she needed, who needed to know where they were going?

She had taken up to exploring the castle with her free time- another fascination. She found Hogwarts intriguing and extremely appealing to her inner adventuress- there was always the lingering sensation of magic and suspense, or a new secret to be discovered in every corner. She relished every discovery she made, and each mystery she delved into. She was highly amused by the suits of armor that would follow her down an empty hallway, trick doors, and the pictures that not only moved in and out of their frames, but spoke to her, too.

Currently her favorite painted character was the romantic and unorthodox Sir Cadogan, who- after the initial shock of their first meeting would shout proclamations of love and enditement. "A lady so lovely must have been created by the sweetest dreams of angels." He had once shouted. Yet, despite the amusement she found in Sir Cadogan's eccentricities, she found it odd to be complimented on her own good-looks. After all- it wasn't Christine he saw, but some magnificent illusion concocted by her own imagination.

However, being a Hogwarts student did have it's downsides as well. She saw Draco daily in potions and transfiguration, as well as in the hallways between classes and during mealtimes. On a few occasions, Draco had levitated a note to her in the classes, and Crabbe and Goyle were always waving and winking at her. It was distracting and dangerous of revealing her disguise.

One afternoon, she sat beside Hermione at their table in potions, opposite Harry and Ron, waiting for their potion to be graded. After months preparation and hard work, the class was finishing up their latest project- the Polyjuice Potion. Obviously, due to their prior experience with making the potion, they had finished within the first hour of the class, and Slughorn, with his head bowed somberly, moving almost robotically, was deliberately procrastinating visiting their table, weary and fearful.

From what she had heard of Slughorn's reputation, Christine was seriously disappointed with his public display of himself. She had been expecting someone strong-willed, powerful, and confident; not a quivering, anxious, fat old has-been. This was supposed to be Dumbledore's talented friend, the person who had avoided the Death Eaters for so long? The genius, the Potions/ DADA prodigy?

_What a shame,_ she thought, and shivered slightly as an unwanted thought settled into her mind. _Who are you to judge him? At least he did some good in his life. I'm too weak to resist the Dark Lord, I always have been. And here I am, supposedly plotting the death of the one and only person that could possibly help me escape his tyranny forever. _Shuddering, she quickly smothered the idea. Why should the sweet, innocent new transfer student look scared or guilty?

Christine glanced nervously over Harry's shoulder toward the back of the room where the Slytherin's normally sat. Crabbe and Goyle oddly out of place without their smug, arrogant ring-leader seated between them. Draco hadn't arrived for class and he still hadn't returned, and it made her edgy and nervous. It wasn't like him to skip potion's- after all, it was his best and favorite subject. What was he up to now?

Christine was pulled out of her silent reverie as Slughorn approached their table, the trademark, jovial bounce in his step missing. He peered down at the contents of their perfected potion and risked a small, sad smile, winking his approval at them. _At least they haven't completely wasted him yet, _Christine thought. "Excellent work my dears- then again, I expected nothing less."

She offered him a small smile but it quickly disappeared as the atmosphere in the room became uncharacteristically quiet and icy. "Shannon Brody," Came Draco's cool, possessive drawl. Slughorn started at the sound of Malfoy's voice and fled- with good reason- to take his seat behind his desk. Draco was the head of the student disciplinary squad, a group of vicious, strict seventh-year Slytherins hand-selected Headmaster Snape himself to seek out and punish wrong-doers and spy on the teachers.

With a cocky smirk, he unrolled a letter from Snape with a quick snap, holding it up just long enough for everyone to see before rolling it back up and strutting to Christine's table, and outstretching his arm, waiting for her to stand up and take it.

Christine stared blankly at him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, before glancing nervously around the table at her friends: Ron was gritting his teeth so hard it seemed his jaw would freeze in that position; Harry's hand gripped the side of the table so hard his knuckles were white, as his other twitched instinctively toward his pocket; Hermione looked alarmed and apprehensive, fiddling nervously with a stand of her hair.

"What is it?" Christine asked, uncertainly, trying to sound anxious and bewildered. "What is it you want?"

"The Headmaster demands your presence immediately- he needs to discuss information regarding your previous school and important details involving the Weasley's adoption of you. " Draco said, his tone kept impressively flat and business-like, but his eyes burned into her own with meaningful intensity and passion, a flirtatious glimmer in his eyes just readable- obviously he had not given up on her yet. She blushed visibly, scowling- she felt as though he were undressing her with his eyes.

She glanced pleadingly at her friends before pushing her chair back and standing up, stooping to grab her back-pack and gather books and cauldron, but Draco caught her by the wrist. Smiling somewhat vindictively, as if enjoying the power he controlled her with, he said, "You can leave those there- you won't be returning to your classes today and therefore have no need for them- you're mud-wallowers can take care of them for you."

Christine glared defiantly at Malfoy's undermining racial slur and everyone- seldom the Slytherins', who scoffed and snickered at her dumb audacity- watched wide-eyed in shock, on bated breath, waiting for Malfoy to retaliate. However he said nothing, wrapping a casual arm around her waist, escorting her out of the room.

"Miss Brody is excused from her classes for the day, Slughorn; do well to inform her other teachers." Draco called dismissively over his shoulder.

When they had reached the entrance hall and were out of ear-shot, Draco seemed to relax a little, softening his grip around her waist and resonating a more calm energy. "You can let go of me now, you. I know how to walk."

"I know, Miss Brody." Draco answered sarcastically, but the charming grin he wore played down the attitude considerably. "Did it ever occur to you that I take pleasure and comfort in having contact with you?"

"But- Draco, you know how I feel-" She said falteringly, not liking the way her voice made her sound so uncertain and vulnerable. So far, he was making it really hard for her to hate him. He made her feel so guilty all the time for the way she had been treating him, and it wasn't helpful. "You know we can't… that I can't be with you, you know that." She said lamely.

"Are you sure that it's not because you don't want to be with me? Don't think that I'm stupid or blind, because I am not. I see the way you look at Potter." His tone suddenly became cracked with anxiety. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I…" She started to respond, but then she realized she did not know what to say. She didn't know. She knew no more about her feelings for Harry than she did about Draco. Just like she didn't know whether her skin blushed and heated from anger or love whenever Draco touched her lately.

She was so confused about everything recently, she was even confused about herself. She was like two people: with Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley's, she was moral, innocent Shannon Brody, the sweet façade that he was in love with Draco she felt more like herself- confident, self-sufficient, and powerful- more true to her colors… more like Christine.

"Harry is nice enough…" She responded neutrally, freezing slightly as she felt Draco lace his fingers with her own. They had come to a complete stop now in the middle of a fleet of stairs on the great staircase.

"Harry…" Draco's voice was almost a whisper as he spoke. "So you call him by his first name even when he's not around; does that mean that you two are together?"

Christine replied softly and very slow, forcing herself to hold eye contact with his searching pleading gaze. "Draco, it's my job. It's professional- that's all."

"So, where does that leave us?" He asked, his steely grey eyes softening to a considerably more gentle shade and her stomach plunged.

"I don't know," She replied meekly, lowering her gaze, grateful for the small distraction as their staircase settled onto the floor that she assumed the Headmasters' office must reside.

"His office is just down this hallway." Draco said lamely and Christine could hear the pain and the hope in his voice. She was glad for the change of subject- it gave her time to calm down and collect her thoughts- or rather, her emotions. When they reached the two stone gargoyles that flanked the entrance, Draco supplied the password and they ascended the spiraling steps. When they reached the top landing of the doors were flung wide open and Snape was already waiting for them to arrive behind his desk, engaged in a conversation with Fenrir Greyback, Crabbe's father, and Lucius Malfoy.

Snape looked up as they entered with a cool impassive expression, indicating the two seats in front of his desk that they were to take. "You are dismissed." Snape said to the assembled Death Eaters. She exchanged a warm smile with Draco's father, a polite wave for Crabbe Sr., and a diminishing glare for Fenrir whom she had never liked but whom had always displayed a rather inappropriate and carnal interest in her, before they disapparated.

Once the Death Eaters had left, Snape was able to drop his act and collapsed wearily against the back of his chair, slumping. Christine smiled sympathetically as she moved forward to embrace the man who had been much like an uncle to her while growing up.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Christine exclaimed pityingly, as he briefly returned the greeting, weary as ever that anyone or anything could be eavesdropping. "What have they done to you? You look so tired and sick- are you okay?"

"The Lord believes that we have been too lenient with our students and their punishments. He fears he might be losing me and decided that I needed a reminder of who I belong to." Snape said, slightly shaken, as he closed his eyes wearily.

"What did he do to you? What did you say? Did he hurt you?" Christine launched into a million questions but he raised a hand to silence her before they even escaped her mouth, gesturing to the chair again and she reluctantly sat down, crossing her legs nervously.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. That's not why I have summoned you here." Snape said soberly. "How is the situation, so far? No one suspects you of anything, do they?"

"How could they? Everyone looks at me and sees someone else's face- all they know of Shannon Brody is what you have told them about her at the start-of-term feast." Christine said uncomfortably. "Everyone in Gryffindor is very… welcoming, and Harry has been very understanding and generous- at times too much so. The only area of improvement really is Ginny, but she's not exactly a problem- just an annoyance. I can tell that she wants to trust me, but she hates me too… because of Harry, of course."

"Have you found out anything new or important… any progress at all?" She could feel Draco watching her, waiting for her response.

"Harry trusts me, he's very open and seems to be attracted to me… or rather Shannon, or whoever it is I am these days." Christine said, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

"Is something wrong?" Snape asked in concern.

"I just don't think I can do this anymore, nor do I want to. They really care about me and all I've done is lie to them about everything. I have to kill Harry- it's just not right… it's not fair."

"Chrissy, who ever told you that life is fair? Do you think it fair to be in your position? Was it fair for your parents and all those people to die? Life is not about what is right or fair- it's survival. This is what we need to survive. This is what you need to do to survive. If your roles were reversed, hew would do the same thing. You have to be strong Christine, it's the only way you'll live."

"Give in to your instincts for survival. Do whatever to succeed, I know you can do this. I know it is hard for you to be anything but yourself, but you must. Think of yourself- your wants, your needs- to motivate you. Remember me, remember Draco, Narcissa and Lucias, and your mother and father- we are your family. We love you. Draco is the best thing for you- concentrate on the love and life you decided with him so long ago- he needs you, he loves you."

All the time Snape had been speaking, Draco had remained vacant, slumped in his seat, staring at the ceiling, his expression torn and pained. She felt his hand reaching for her and before she knew what she was doing, she grasped it, holding it between her two hands. She felt guilty and dirty. Why had she neglected Draco, why had she lost faith in him? By now she was overwhelmed, crying. _I do love him, _She thought spitefully, _I love Draco and I like Harry- I shouldn't like him, though- I can't._

"Just remember, we are all we have now. This may not be the life we wanted, but we're alive and together, and that's all that counts." Snape said. "I'm sorry you have to do this. I wish we could speak longer, but I have to discuss some important matters with the Dark Lord. I'll try to arrange another meeting for us, but one that's more discreet, of course. Until then, farewell."

After they descended the stairs, Draco stopped Christine in the hallway. He seized her hands in his own, kissing them and holding them to his face. "Christine… Christine…" He moaned desperately, eyes glazing with unshed tears. "Chris, please don't give up on me yet. Will you meet me? I know you don't want to, but just for a while, after dinner? Please, I promise, I'll try to be better. I just really need to be with you now."

"When?" She replied quietly, her voice soft and strained from crying.

"Meet me beneath the great tree in the courtyard, at eight. I'll be waiting there." He said, his face lighting up with the new prospect of hope.

"What will I tell everyone?" She asked.

"Just say that you have detention or something."

"Detention? For what?"

"Doesn't matter- there is no cause or reason for anything that happens in this world anymore…"

And with that, he encircled her in his arms, holding her for a few minutes, before quickly kissing her and bidding her farewell. As he walked down the hallway, there was a new spring in his step full of the promise of love and hope.

~*~ LATER THAT EVENING~*~

"He did what?!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione's exclamations of fury and disbelief couldn't be more evident as Christine wound her long, shiny, sleek golden hair into a bun and pinned it together with her wand. Christine glanced anxiously down at her watch. It read seven-thirty- she had to get going.

"He gave me detention." Christine said, ashamed at how easily she could lie to them. "Apparently, he disapproves of my rebellious attitude and lack of disrespect for the head of the disciplinary squad.

"Ridiculous- that's not worthy of a detention." Hermione scoffed indignantly.

"That's hardly the point- there is no reason for detention at Hogwarts anymore." Christine said quietly, reaching for her cloak. "I've got to go now- I'm supposed to meet him in the dungeons- he needs some fresh ingredients for some potions he is making."

"Are you sure you don't want one of us to accompany you? We could use Harry's cloak…" Hermione offered, hugging Hermione at the entrance to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"No." Christine objected, shaking her head sullenly. "I've grown up in Snape's company- you wouldn't believe how intuitive he can be, the powers he possesses… he'd sniff you out like a dog. I must go alone- I can't risk putting you guys in danger…"

"We'll wait up for you." Harry promised, seizing her hand and kissing her briefly, but affectionately at the corner of her lips.

"I'll be counting the minutes…" Christine replied with a small smile and he returned it slowly, unable to smother the odd feeling that something wasn't right. "I must go now, truly- goodbye."

Christine exited through the portrait hole, clutching the after-hours hallway pass Snape had supplied her with earlier that afternoon and began making her way through the castle She moved at a moderate pace as she crossed to the end of the seventh-floor corridor and began to descend the great staircase, pausing every few minutes when the staircase would move and then another would settle into place. There was no need for her to hurry- despite her petite, delicate stature, she could walk quite fast and she ran even quicker.

When she reached the entrance hall her breath picked up its pace- the courtyard was only a ten minute walk from there on.

She arrived at the courtyard only five minutes late despite her swiftness. Confused, she stared blankly at the empty bench beneath the large maple tree where Draco was supposed to meet her. She stood there for another moment before she nearly jumped in shock as someone gently laced their fingers in her own.

"Shh… relax, it's just me." Draco's soft low voice whispered gently in her ear and she calmed down as he spoke. "I didn't mean to frighten you- I was getting us some snacks."

"It's alright- I just thought you were… someone else." Christine breathed out loud in relief. She allowed Draco to pull her over to the bench and hold her against his chest. It felt natural for him to hold her like this, normal… good.

"Someone else? Well, who would I be? All the seventh-year Slytherin's know about us, except for Crabbe and Goyle, of course. The Gryffindor's don't suspect a thing.." Draco's cheerful tone died down slightly as he took in Christine's worried expression, and he continued speaking in a quiet, more serious voice. "You're worried about him, aren't you… the Dark lord?"

Christine's voice came out in a broken whisper and she sobbed, hating- as always- how vulnerable it made her feel to cry, and how she was so comforted in Draco's presence that she couldn't hold back her tears. "He- he's very angry with me right now. I'm not working hard enough- I don't have enough information."

"Now you listen, Christine, and listen up good, you hear?" Draco said seriously, wiping her tears away with his thumb and gazing down at her in warmth and affection. "He won't kill you- he wont' harm you, I swear. He needs you- more than any of the others; more than me, more than Severus. And I would never let anyone- not even him- hurt you. I would die before I let anything harm you."

"Draco don't say that- I'm horrible- and you mean far too much to me." Christine sobbed pathetically into his neck. "Do you really think I'd be happier alive, knowing that I was the reason for your death?"

Draco thought silently for a moment before replying with a warming grin. "Okay. Then we'll give Romeo and Juliet a run for their money and die together before anyone has the chance to do us off."

Through her tears, Christine couldn't suppress a giggle. "Everything always has to be so morbid with our kind, doesn't it? Tell me are all Slytherins- like Death Eaters- so woebegone and malicious? We truly are a motley crew aren't we?"

"It wasn't always like that, though, remember?" Draco said serenely, kissing her softly on the lips and for the first in a very long time, she did not refuse or recoil away from him. "Remember that summer our families spent together in Scotland when we were nine? The one when we swore to be best friends for the rest of our lives and promised that not only would we not end up like our parents, but we would we better."

Christine smirked- she remembered that summer alright. She had had to take an anti-bacterial potion that was about as appetizing as the food served at Beauxbatons for three days. "You mean the one where we made that blood oath and I got a nasty infection on my thumb?"

"Yeah, that one." Draco laughed. "I wish that that was the worst that things could get for us now- that everything could be that simple."

"Growing up is never simple," Christine replied.

"So…" Draco yawned tiredly, leaning his back against the maple trees' wide trunk and pulled Christine closer to his chest, twirling a strand of her silky, recently-straightened hair between two fingers. "What's with the new get-up?"

"You mean the hair?" Christine responded, a small frown appearing on her face as she touched her smooth locks as well. "Keeping up appearances- my alias has straight hair. It would be odd if someone were to touch my hair and feel my curls rather than Shannon's smooth, straight hair.

"It looks nice on you." Draco said sweetly into her hair and kissing the nape of her neck, sending a shock of cool apprehension down her spine. "Of course, I like your curls better- they were much more elegant and fun to play with."

"You mean pull?" Christine teased, smirking.

"No, I mean it- I'm serious… about everything. Which reminds me…" Draco reached into one of his pockets and removed two fortune cookies.

Christine observed them in confusion, dumbfounded. "So… fortune cookies remind you about being serious?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he handed her one.

"Oh, you know how I love those ancient Chinese proverbs and superstitions." He answered half-jokingly, smiling. "Go on- open it."

"Aren't you going to read yours?" Christine asked suspiciously as she began un-wrapping her fortune cookie.

"No. I'm pretty sure about what's in store or me in the future… I hope." Draco replied.

There was a soft but audible crack as Christine opened her fortune cookie, and he watched patiently¸ waiting for her response quietly, smiling all the while.

_How odd, _Christine thought internally. _My fortune is folded into the shape of a… a ring._

As realization hit her, she hastily unwrapped the fortune paper, until finally, she had unraveled a beautiful gold ring with a large heart-shaped diamond. The rest of the outer-rim of the band, too, was set with diamonds, and- she had to light her wand to read it- the inside was engraved in elegant cursive "My reason and my life; My love always and forever." An engagement ring.

"I love you more than my own life Christine. I love and want everything about you- your smile, your laugh, your kisses, your heart, your mind and your body…" Draco said gazing intently into her eyes as he slid the ring onto her finger. "… Your hand, and to be with you always."

"Draco, we're only seventeen!" Christine gasped, still unable to get over the shock.

"No- you are. I am eighteen, and I've loved you for as long as I've known you, which is my whole life. You're the only good thing I have in my life right now and I know you feel the same way, but you're scared- I can see it in your eyes. I am, too, but we can do this, I know we can. As long as we still love and trust one another."

"But, how can you be so sure? We've only dated just each other. And what if-" Christine tried to reason.

"Because-" Draco said, placing Christine's wedding hand over his heart and her other against his cheek. He leaned down and kissed her with passionate affection, and she succumbed to the power and love that they shared, kissing him back. She could feel the warmth of his skin and the rapid, hard pumping of his heart beneath her hands, as her own raced in her chest. "Because I have always loved you- my heart beats solely so I can be with you."

"What if the Dark Lord finds out?" Christine breathed, her head spinning.

"I already have his majesties' blessing so long as we don't let out relationship get in the way of the assignment. Do you love me?"

"Yes, of course I love you. You know that- would I have bothered coming if I didn't?"

"Then will you- Christine Marie de Bernaise- save my life and give me the honor of marrying you?"

"Yes." Christine said, and when she spoke the words she realized she really meant. Draco enveloped her in his arms in the surrounding darkness as they sealed the deal with yet another kiss…

~*~

When Christine finally returned to Gryffindor tower, it was in great relief. She looked rather worse for wear- her hair tangled and disheveled, weary-eyed, and rumple-clothed. She would have no trouble feigning exhaustion if Ron, Harry, or Hermione had stayed up to be sure of her safe return; her meeting with Draco- although relieving and pleasant (for the most part) had been a great emotional and physical toll, and it left her sore and exhausted.

It was well past midnight as Christine crept slowly into the common room, careful to make as little noise as possible so as not to awaken or disturb anyone. The room was silent and empty, dimly lit by the dying flames in the fireplace, but she did not allow herself to get hopeful of an easy escape yet- there was a good chance Hermione was reading in the dorm as she waited for Christine to return.

She made it half-way across the room before a low groan made her stop dead in her tracks. As her eyes swept the area that the noise had come from they settled on a large heap of blankets on the futon in the corner, which was pulled out for the first time she could remember.

"No! Don't hurt her!"

Christine's eyes widened in alarm as she recognized Harry's voice. She tried to tread carefully as she hurried toward him. Harry made another cry of panic in his sleep, convulsing beneath the ocean of sheets, and the fire suddenly extinguished as if a large gust of wind had blown it out, plunging the room into complete darkness, which was only punctuated by the moonlight streaming through the window behind Harry. She became alert as the air in the common room grew thick and heavy with a powerful surge of magic and she procured her wand, rushing to his side.

She seized Harry's hand- slick with sweat- and tried to wake him. He remained unresponsive as he cried softly, tears streaming down his anguished face. "No, Mum! Mum!"

"Harry! Harry!" Christine cried in alarm, shaking him slightly. "Harry, please wake up! You're scaring me! Harry!"

With a gasp of shock, Harry awoke, panting heavily as he grasped Christine tightly by the neck, intending to throttle her and roughly squeeze the air from her lungs. It wasn't long- only a matter of minutes- before her eyes began to water and she made strained, choking sounds, pulling at Harry's hands with her own. Finally, his eyes focused on her face and he released her neck pulling her to his chest, Christine coughed and sucked in a lungful of air. She shivered slightly in fear as Harry cradled her head- it had never occurred to Christine that Harry could be dangerous- that she would have to be cautious for her safety around him. "Christine!" He gasped, frantically. "Oh, my God, what have I done? Christine, I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Christine said quietly, brushing his hair back, trying to comfort him. "Are you alright? You don't look so good- maybe I should walk you to the Hospital wing…"

"No." Harry objected, pulling her gently onto the futon and into his arms. "Please. Let's- Let's just stay here. Stay with me."

Still anxious, but too exhausted to object, Christine quickly removed her cloak and tossed it onto the floor beside her. She rested her head on his chest and she felt him grope for her wrist, allowing him to hold it. She listened as the sound of his racing heart slow and his breathing calm, feeling the weight of the day taking it's toll on her as she counted the number of his heart beats until she fell asleep beside him.

_One hundred and one…_

_One hundred and two…_

_One hundred and three…_


End file.
